


While There’s Still Something Left

by Infernal_panda



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, CaptainSpider, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friendship, Frottage, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hydra (Marvel), Irondad, M/M, Mutual Pining, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker-centric, Pining, Protective Steve Rogers, Rare Pairings, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Feels, Superfamily (Marvel), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Crush, spidershield - Freeform, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 203,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23999698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infernal_panda/pseuds/Infernal_panda
Summary: Tony was not okay. Tony was the exact opposite of okay. Tony, stupid, stupid Tony, not only recruited a teenager, he recruited a teenager that was now being targeted by Hydra. This had to be his fault. Hydra must have somehow found out Peter helped him in Germany and picked him out as the weakest link. They wanted to find a way to get to the Avengers, to get to Tony, and they found it.*****In the aftermath of Civil War, the Accords have been sorted out, but the Avengers are far from mended. Their issues must be pushed aside, however, when Peter Parker, who has until then kept his real identity a secret, arrives at Stark Tower to tell Tony that May is missing. It will take the whole team to figure out what Hydra has planned, but they are nowhere near prepared for what they will find.PS: I promise the writing does get better! I was expecting this to be a shorter fic, but as you can tell it kind of ran away from me and I take it more seriously than I did in the beginning! Thanks for reading!
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Loki, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov/Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Steve Rogers
Comments: 220
Kudos: 449





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys!  
> I just wanted to let you know that though I do have many of the chapters already written, they are not edited or in order. At all. I’m a very scatter-brained writer, but I will be posting as often as I can. I hope you enjoy chapter one, and I would love to hear what you guys think. <3 thanks for reading!
> 
> PS: I don’t own any of the characters, or original images, although I did edit most of them. The ones I didn’t edit came from the movies.

Peter paced outside of Stark Industries, a thin sheen of sweat starting to cover his skin. It was nearing the thirty minute mark since he’d shown up, and the sun was only intensifying the heat radiating from his anxiety ridden body. He checked the time for probably the tenth time in the same amount of minutes and pulled at the string on his old uniform jacket, staring up at the towering building that was Stark Industries.

May was gone.

It had been three days. It felt like both the longest and shortest three days of his life. Time didn’t feel like time was even a real thing anymore, days just blending together into a muddled haze of worry and unspoken regrets. After calling the police and giving his statement, he managed to sneak out of the apartment from his window, knowing that if he didn’t, they would call social services, and that was the last thing he wanted. It’s not like he had anywhere to go, and he refused to go live with someone he didn’t know while his Aunt was who knows where. He couldn’t go home, and he couldn’t go to school, so he hadn’t really eaten or slept outside of the bare minimum he could scrounge from vending machines and naps on park benches. Ned made him crash for a few hours at his place after they made their plan the night before, but he didn’t really want to stay there any longer than he had to. He already got one person he cared about kidnapped, he didn’t need Ned targeted next.

Peter hated that it came to this. He never wanted or anticipated anyone to figuring out his true identity. Which was why when Mr. Stark found Peter patrolling and asked if he would aid him in Germany, he agreed, only under the condition that he not have to disclose his name. He was sure that if Mr. Stark wanted to know, he could find out whether Peter told him or not, but he trusted the man enough not to go behind his back. So Peter kept on his mask.

Now he didn’t have a choice. He could go to Mr. Stark and tell him what happened as civvie Peter Parker, but Mr. Stark wouldn’t take it seriously. People get kidnapped everyday. It’s unfortunate and tragic, but it wasn’t his jurisdiction. It’s not every day that a super hero’s family gets taken, though. There could be any number of reasons behind the attack, and for all he knew, May could be the first of many that got taken. If he didn’t warn Mr. Stark, which one of their loved ones would be targeted next? There was too much at stake to keep it a secret.

Somehow though, it felt like in telling Mr. Stark, he was giving up Spider-Man. Mr. Stark hadn’t contacted him even once since Germany, despite him trying valiantly to get his attention. Happy wasn’t thrilled about it, and Peter wasn’t exactly proud of his desperation, but he knew he could do more if only they would only let him. He could make a difference, save lives, just like they did, but once Mr. Stark knew his identity, if his age wasn’t enough to make Mr. Stark ban him from future missions and take his suit back, the fact he was targeted would.

Peter tried to find May on his own, looking into that weird octopus symbol on the floor and getting Ned to hack into the security cameras around their apartments, but they were all clean. Wiped, actually, which felt worse. Whoever he was dealing with was smart. He didn’t have anything else to go on and each day that he waited was another day May could be getting tortured, if the blood they left behind was any indication. The worst part was that May didn’t know anything. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t be able to give them what they wanted , and it was all his fault.

It was that thought that finally pushed him to start what he came here to do. He took a seat on a bench by the bright flower bed near the entrance, opened his laptop and pulled out a flash drive. Within a minute, he was able to scan the fake ID badge he and Ned made, giving himself access to all floors. There was a long pause then a beep of affirmation, and Peter was finally able to let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. If even one of the numbers had been off, the badge wouldn’t have worked, and chances were, Tony-or at least his security-would have been notified. Peter scoffed, deprecatingly at the thought. _And this is supposed to be the easy part._

Peter connected his phone and the computer, tilting the screen down to avoid anyone else seeing what he was doing, and put in his earpiece. He clicked the button on the side, a green light flashing. 

“Ned, you there?” He whispered.

“Yeah, here. Did you fix the cameras?” Peter could hear Ned chewing on what was probably Cheese Balls and his stomach rumbled. What he wouldn’t give to be the man in the chair right now.

“Working on that now. I already scanned the badge though,” Peter said, brows furrowed as he worked his way through the firewalls.

“Sweet,” Ned laughed. “I was only like 30% sure that was going to work.”

“What?” Peter squawked, indignantly. “That would’ve been nice to know, Ned!”

A couple walked past him, eyeing him warily. Peter forced out an awkward laugh, flushing, and waved at them politely. They exchanged glances, but continued walking. Peter didn’t miss how they picked up their pace, but he didn’t mind, waiting until they disappeared into the building to start up again.

“Sorry, man. Didn’t want to freak you out,” Ned said easily, brushing the cheesy dust onto his pants. “You inside yet?”

Peter closed the laptop, and shoved it in his bag. “Working on it.”

Peter walked briskly-but not too briskly-to the front doors, and as soon as he stepped through, his stomach dropped. 

Oh god,” he breathed.

Peter wasn’t sure what he was thinking he would see when he made it inside, but a near empty room wasn’t it. He figured he would be able to blend into the background, weave in and out of people, remain invisible in the masses, but that was kind of hard to do without people to shield him, especially in a room this size.

“What? What is it?” Ned asked. “Did they already catch you. It was the key card wasn’t it? Oh god, I’m so sorry, Pet-“

“Shh,” Peter muttered quietly. He kept his feet moving, despite every fiber of his being telling him to abort mission. “Which way?”

“Elevator on your left,” Ned coaxed.

Peter looked up and nodded at the elevator sign, then ducked his head back down. 

“Can I help you?” 

Peter’s eyes shot up. A brunette guy at the front desk was looking at him expectantly. Peter’s mouth opened but he couldn’t make his brain work.

“Oh god,” Ned moaned.   
  


Peter’s brain didn’t have time to think of an excuse before his mouth blurted out, “Bathroom?”

“Nice,” Ned said, amused. “So smooth.”

Peter fought the urge to roll his eyes. The man, however, seemed none the wiser, laughing at the deep blush on Peter’s face and pointed down the hall. “Right down this hall then take the first left across from the elevators. If you hit the coffee room, you went too far.”

“Right. Thanks,” Peter said, letting out a relieved breath.

“No problem. Let us know if you need anything else.”

Peter gave him a polite smile then started to walk again, trying to keep his face down as much as he could without looking obvious. He didn’t need anyone asking anymore questions.

“Okay, so you’ll need to scan the card when you get inside and hit the penthouse button. According to his schedule he will have a meeting in about an hour, so you’ve still got time. It will go straight to his floor, so you don’t have to worry about people. Apparently he likes to avoid being stuck in there with his employees. Or maybe it’s a security thing. I don’t know. I’ll have to give you an override code before it’ll move though, so tell me when you’re ready,” Ned explained, the clicking of a mouse in the background.

“I’m inside. You ready?”

“Yep. Press the button.”

Peter did as he was told, and a see-through screen with lit up numbers popped from below the call buttons with a small beep.

“Whoa, this is cool,” Peter whispered.

“It’s T͏e͏ch in Stark Industries. What did you expect. Password is EDWIN53.”

“Edwin?” Peter asked as he typed it in. “Huh. Think it’s Mr. Stark’s middle name?

The elevator started to move.

“No, his is Edward,” Ned answered.

Peter’s lips turned down in acknowledgment and he watched the numbers above the elevator, shifting nervously.

10\. 11. 12.

“Ned?”

“Yeah?”

15\. 16. 17.

“What am I supposed to say?” Peter whispered.

Ned leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, wincing at the rawness in Peter’s voice. He had wondered that too, almost as soon as Peter asked for his help. Honestly, Ned wanted Peter to tell Stark from the beginning, after Stark confronted him the first time. The dude made Peter a suit. He obviously thought Peter was awesome if he asked for his help. Peter could be a freaking Avenger! Ned understood why Peter didn’t want to tell him then, though, but it did make things harder to explain now. As true as it was, Peter didn’t need to hear that.

“Just tell him the truth, I guess,” Ned said, spinning in his chair slowly. “He’s a good guy. He will understand.”

Peter nodded, even though Ned couldn’t see him.

48\. 49. 50.

“You okay?”

Peter adjusted his backpack. Was he okay? He felt like every floor put more pressure in his body, making his blood too loud in his ears, his lungs unable to inflate. Questions he didn’t want to say out loud before were pushed from his mouth.

“What if he can’t help? What if he won’t?”

“Peter, man you gotta breathe,” Ned said, nervously. “It’ll work out, I promise. We will get May back. Even if it’s just you and me, we will figure it out.”

74\. 75. 76.

Peter was shaking now. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He muttered to himself under his breath, trying to get his breathing under control.

“Peter. Think about it. He’s Iron Man. He will help you.”

Out of everything Ned said, that seemed to make the most sense to him. He _was_ Iron Man. He was a hero. Even if he couldn’t do anything himself, he would help in another way. He wouldn’t just push him away. Not after Peter had helped him.

“Thanks, Ned. You really are the best friend ever,” Peter laughed shakily.

“That’s what I’m here for. Just your friendly neighborhood guy in the chair,” Ned answered, grinning. Peter laughed again.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Peter looked around, stepping over the doorway. The room was huge, more open than he expected. A beautiful living room with black furniture opened up to a large kitchen across the room. Mr. Stark was at the bar, pouring some kind of amber alcohol into a glass.

“You the one that hacked into my system?” He asked without looking up. The doors closed behind Peter and his mouth went dry. No turning back now. He couldn’t make his tongue work, so he nodded.

“Not cool, kid. What were you wanting to achieve?Wanting to come steal something, sell it on EBay? Maybe get an autograph?” Mr. Stark walked around the bar, and started toward him. “Newsflash, I’m not a big fan of kids who mess with my things.”

“I-I need your help,” Peter stuttered.

Mr. Stark scoffed. “You need my help? Seems like you’re more than capable of figuring things out on your own to me.”

“My aunt,” Peter said hurriedly, anxiety racking through his body. This wasn’t going well. “Somebody took my aunt.”

Tony frowned, the ice in his glass rattling around when he sat on the rounded couch. “Police are there for a reason, kid. You report it?”

“Tell him who you are Peter,” Ned urged in his ear.

“I can’t,” He said, brokenly. His breaths were getting harsher.

“Why not?” Mr. Stark asked, irritably. “How do you expect anyone to be able to help if you haven’t done the most obvious thing?”

“You have to. Tell him, dude.”

Tony stood up again, leaving his glass on the side table.

“Look, kid, I know you must be scared but you have to let the police do their job. We can’t be everywhere at once. Let me call you a ride and you can-“

No. No, this can’t be happening. He couldn’t do this by himself. He needed Mr. Stark. _Needed_ him to help. She was as good as gone if he didn’t. 

“Peter!” Ned urged.

“I’m Spider-Man,” he blurted. “I’m sorry, I should have told you before, but the cops can’t find her. They grabbed her and there was blood and I can’t-I can’t-“ Peter sobbed, his shoulders hunching in on themselves. “They took her and I can’t find her. Not by myself.”

This was Spider-Man? This-this kid? Tony had to fight back the urge to laugh. There was no way. He couldn’t be more than sixteen. It was impossible. Well, no. Not impossible. More like improbable. Videos of Spider-Man in action started on YouTube a year before Tony even found him. That would have made the kid 14 or 15 when he started the superhero biz. Don’t kids that age still have curfews? Yeah. No. There was no way the person in front of him was Spider-Man.

Peter could see the conflict on Tony’s face and pulled out his mask, holding it out and letting it hang between tightly clenched fingers.

“You made me this,” Peter insisted, his voice thick. “You said that you wouldn’t be seen with a superhero wearing pajamas.”

Tony froze. Now that-that did sound familiar. Tony ran through everything he knew about Spider-Man in his mind and cursed. If he was telling the truth, which was still a big of, that would mean he let a freaking child fight full-fledged Avengers. When Spider-Man wanted to keep his identity a secret, he thought it was because he wanted to protect his family or keep himself from getting sucked into the superhero lifestyle. He never in a million years imagined it was because he was too young to even vote!

None of that mattered right now, though. Before he could register what he was doing, he was at the kid’s side, putting a strong hand on each shoulder. Peter looked up at him with teary, hopeful eyes and damn if it didn’t make guilt shoot through him.

“I don’t know how much of this I believe yet, but I promise you we will figure this out.”

It was like a dam opened and all the pent up feelings blooming from uncertainty of the last few days spilled out. Peter didn’t hesitate to throw arms around him, and Tony thought about pulling away, but he was shaking so hard Tony thought he might fall apart.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tony said quietly, patting him awkwardly. “It’s okay. This jacket is Armani though, so you’re going to have to stop crying.”

Peter let out a shocked, wet laugh and Tony smiled, pulling him away. “Come sit down. You have a lot of explaining to do.”


	2. Reunited and it Feels Sub-Par

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter meets more of the scooby gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write!  
> I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did, and I can’t wait to hear from y’all! Comments give me life(feed my ego) and encourage me to push out chapters faster (wink, wink.)  
> I love you guys, and thanks for reading!
> 
> I wanted to give special thanks to NobelLioness for the constructive criticism left on the last chapter. So, yeah! Thanks! lol

Peter sat on the couch in the Stark Industries penthouse, his face in his hands. If he thought he was exhausted before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. His mind was eerily quiet, after days of nonstop thinking. He hoped that telling Mr. Stark everything would make him feel better, but the look on Stark's face when he saw the pictures...well. It was less than encouraging.

Peter could still see Mr. Stark pacing across the room.

Tony was not okay. Tony was the exact opposite of okay. Tony, stupid, stupid Tony, not only recruited a teenager, he recruited a teenager that was now being targeted by Hydra. Even after Peter's explanation of everything and he passed Tony's (very thorough) interrogation, Tony still held on to a sliver of hope that Peter wasn't who he said he was, that maybe this was some elaborate plan by Hydra to gain his trust and lure him and the Avengers into a trap. He didn't want to accept that he brought the kid into the dark side of his world, and if that meant the kid was Hydra, he would be willing to deal with that over the alternative.

Any doubt Tony may have had was effectively squashed when JARVIS ran a scan of Peter and compared it to footage from the fight in Germany. Tony read the screen over and over, looking for a fault or discrepancy in the information in front of him, but it was useless. There was too much proof to deny it any longer. Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

Unfortunately, that meant the whole thing with the kid's aunt had to be his fault. Hydra must have somehow found out about Peter helping him in Germany and picked him out as the weakest link. They wanted to find a way to get to the Avengers, to get to Tony, and they found it.

He wished he could push some of the blame on the Capcicle and his team, but that wouldn't be fair. Steve may have driven the wedge between the Avengers, but pulling Peter into the mess was completely on him. He shouldn't have recruited someone that he didn't know. A cute little question about Spider-Man’s intentions shouldn’t have been enough for him, no matter how good the answer was.

Tony looked at his phone for what felt like the fifteenth time in five minutes and growled in frustration. Rhodey was with Pepper at a conference in Manhattan. Natasha wasn't answering her phone. Bruce was in BFE, probably doing something sciencey and unimportant, obviously too busy to even keep his phone charged judging by the instant voice mail. Why did nobody ever answer their phones when he needed them to?

Tony’s finger hovered over the name he had been avoiding for the last half hour. Steve. Of course the one person who knew the most about this stuff, besides Bucky of course, was the one person he didn't want to call. He could probably call Sam, but the guy wasn't exactly Tony's biggest fan either. The Three Amigos were practically joined at the hip, so calling one meant calling all three.

Just because they managed to figure out all of the Accord issues didn't mean there wasn't still hurt there. If the Accords hadn't ruined their friendship, beating him and Barnes to a pulp and then being left in Siberia probably did.

But what about the kid? Tony was torn. Peter hadn't spoken since he finished telling Tony what he needed to know, and Tony couldn't blame him. The kid was probably going crazy right now. He knew exactly how much it sucked to feel like you were in a situation that was out of your control, but he wasn't exactly cut out for the whole calm and comfort part of heroing.

Tony honestly didn't even know what the next step in this whole process would be. What was he supposed to do while they looked for his aunt? He couldn't take care of Peter, that’s for sure. He could barely take care of himself. A fact that Pepper was quick to point out every given chance, which for some reason was actually pretty often. Tony sighed again, his finger tapping softly on the call button.

"Do you think she's dead?" Peter asked.

Tony jumped a little from the suddenness of the break in silence and turned. The kid's eyes were still a little red-rimmed and puffy, but they held a determined sharpness that wasn't there before. It was a fair question, granted, but one Tony definitely wasn't qualified to answer.

"I hope not," he answered truthfully after pondering the question a moment. "I won’t lie and tell you that she isn’t, but I don't think they would kill her if they are wanting to use her to get to you. It wouldn't benefit them."

Peter nodded, not sure what to think of that answer. It was better than a straight yes, he supposed.

Tony's phone rang and they both sagged in relief.

"Thank god," Tony muttered. "Nat, you know cell phones are only useful if you answer them, right?"

" _I've been busy, Tony. What do you need?"_

"What do I need? Hm. Well, I've got my old friend Spidey here, you remember, one who wore too much spandex and talked too much? That guy. He seems to think we may have a Hydra problem here," Tony said, throwing Peter a wink as he motioned for Peter to follow him to the hallway. Peter perked up and followed, practically jogging to catch up. They walked hurriedly through a long hall, passing several bedrooms.

" _Hydra_ ," she said, hesitantly. " _You're sure?_ "

"Yeah. Unless someone else is going around stamping their logo on people's floor in blood, I am inclined to believe they are behind it."

Peter filed the name Hydra away. Tony said he knew what the symbol was, but this was the first time he heard the name.

The two men stepped into Tony's SI lab, and Tony pointed at a chair near the back. Peter sat down, his lips parted in amazement as he looked over the room. This place is what Peter’s heaven would look like. There were cases of chemicals lining the walls, with bits and pieces of machinery and Iron Man suit parts laying sporadically along the length of the center table. Peter recognized the shape of one of Iron Man's blasters, charred black and wires exposed. His fingers twitched in anticipation, wanting more than anything to put his hands to work.

Tony walked to a set of monitors, similar to the screen that popped out in the elevator, but much larger and all connected along a black panel, bright lit text and diagrams across their screens

 _"Is he okay?_ "

Tony looked over his shoulder, still tapping away on the screen. Peter's shrugged awkwardly, looking confused. Tony’s eyebrows lifted in surprise that the kid could hear the speaker from across the room. That was some intense super hearing.

"Answer's a bit relative. He's not injured, if that's what you mean," Tony answered, typing in a password before clicking his way through a website Peter didn’t recognize. "They took his aunt."

" _You know we are going to have to tell Steve."_

Tony could practically hear the smugness in her voice. Her and her stupid "we need each other" speeches were at the bottom of his list of things he wanted to hear right now. The clicking of his mouse got increasingly aggressive.

"You know what I think is so beautiful about the word 'we'? It means both you and me, so-"

" _Shut it, Stark. Call him. I can meet you in Manhattan three hours."_

Tony breathed heavily out his nose. Fantastic.

"Fine. See you then."

Tony practically threw his phone on the table and sat on his desk, not caring about the papers that crumbled under his shifted weight. Natasha was right, he would need all the help he could get, but he knew that already. Knowing didn't make calling him any easier.

"Mr. Stark?" Tony turned his attention back to the kid, almost having forgotten he was still in the room. "Can I work on my web shooters? I promise I'll be careful. I just haven't been able to get in the lab in a few days and I really need to make some adjustments."

Seeing him in the bright lights of the lab, Tony felt a pang of guilt. The kid looked awful. His eyes were bright, but had dark circles beneath them, and his hair was slightly oily looking.

"Have you eaten?"

Peter's eyes widened, surprised at the sudden question, and he flushed. "Not in a bit, no, sir."

"Slept?"

Peter shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Tony blew out a big breath, his cheeks puffing. He really should call Steve. That would be the responsible thing to do right now. Yet...How could he neglect a child so obviously in need of food?

Tony clapped his hands together, glad the decision to wait was made for him, and rocked off the desk and onto his feet. "Alright here's what we're going to do. I'll order some food for all of us and get started pulling information. You, Spiderling, are going to take a shower."

Peter's brows furrowed, and his lips pulled into a line. His eyes scanned over the tables.

"Problem?" Tony asked, following his line of sight.

"What about May?"

Tony sighed.

"Look, I know this isn't what you want to hear, but this isn't going to be a quick in and out thing. Hydra is nothing to mess around with. We are going to need all hands on deck here, and in case you haven't noticed.." Tony motioned to the empty room. "There's only two of us."

"I get that, I do, it's just-" Peter shook his head, frustrated. "I need to do something. I should've come as soon as I knew she was missing. They could've already been here. I can't just sit here and do nothing when they have her."

Tony could understand that. Sitting on the sidelines was tough, especially when you had abilities. Tony crossed his arms, and channeled his inner Pepper.

"Your aunt wouldn't want you to waste away. How are you going to fight anyone if you are dead on your feet?" Peter frowned, but didn't reply. "The best thing for you to do right now is eat and sleep. Definitely get that shower. After that, we can work on your web things. That should keep you busy for now, yeah?"

Peter slumped a bit, but nodded. "Alright, Mr. Stark. Thank you. You know, for helping me. I know it can't be easy with the Avengers stuff."

Tony's cheek twitch. "Yeah, well. Gotta let the kids out of the corner eventually, right?"

****

Natasha hung up the phone and shook her head to herself, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. What could Spider-Man have to do with Hydra? She didn't exactly talk to the kid much, but he didn't seem like the type to get mixed into secret government agencies. If anything, he was almost too easy to read, even through the mask.

She pulled the water bottle from the table beside her and played with the lid, trying to occupy her hands. The slight hum of the SHIELD jet was making her eyes feel heavy. It had been a long week.

"What exactly is Tony calling me about?" Steve asked, eyebrow quirked in amusement. His hair was a mess, and he was still wearing his uniform, which was looking a little worse for wear after breaking into the weapon outpost in Virginia. As always, his shield was within grabbing distance, since he couldn't exactly keep it strapped to his back on the jet.

"Oh, he won't call you, I'm sure. I'll even put money on it," Natasha answered in her typical evasive manner. "It'll just make the surprise of us all showing up that much better."

"Better for _you_ , maybe," Bucky huffed quietly, leaning his head against the headrest. Steve could feel the tension radiating off of Bucky since the moment Nat implied they would be meeting Tony.

Steve let out a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm guessing I shouldn't unpack when we get back?"

"Not sure. I'll let Tony explain all the details."

Steve shrugged, brushing her vagueness off. No use in hearing everything twice, anyway. Bucky looked at Steve then followed his lead, turning his attention back to the book Shuri gave him.

Steve looked out the window of the jet, going over what he heard of Natasha's conversation in his mind. He wouldn't ever admit it out loud, but he wasn't looking forward to being around Tony again so soon. Not because he hated him, that wasn’t it. After everything, he wasn’t sure if he could ever really hate him.

Be that as it may, despite the fact that they technically all lived in the same building again, they had avoided one another at all costs. The last time they saw each other at an Accord meet hadn't been bad, per se, but there was a dull ache every time he thought about how different things felt between them now. They may have had different views and approaches, but at one time Steve really saw Tony as his friend.

When Tony offered to bring him in back in Germany, he was so confident that he was making the right decision. He was so afraid that answering to Ross would cause more harm than good, keeping them from protecting people when they needed to, manipulating them into acting as weapons when they didn't.

It took destroying his friendship with Tony for him to realize that Tony was just doing what he thought was right. Steve should have known that Tony wouldn't allow the Accords to remain as they were. As soon as Steve and the others signed, Tony and his million dollar lawyers got to work on amending every issue the Avengers could find. They all managed to agree on what to keep and what to scrap, it was just Ross they had to get through. Even that they had managed to do, but by then it was too late. The damage was done.

"Why are you frowning so hard? You're going to get wrinkles," Natasha observed. "Are you worried?"

"I'm not frowning. I'm thinking," Steve argued, brushing off Bucky's concerned look and cursing Natasha for her alarmingly astute insight.

"God help us all," Sam muttered beneath the magazine covering his face. Natasha snorted and Bucky grinned, kicking Sam's boot playfully. So much for being asleep.

"If you're not worried, what then? What is Steve Grant Rogers thinking so hard about?" Nat tapped on her chin playfully.

“I still can’t believe you told her that,” Steve grumbled, nudging Bucky with his arm.

“Could it be Kristen?" Natasha asked, her eyes bright with mischief.

"Who's Kristen?" Bucky asked, giving up his chance to tease Steve about his middle name in favor of gossip. He quirked his head to smirk at his best friend. "Someone I should know about?"

Steve rolled his eyes but remained silent.

"Kristen is from Statistics. I keep telling Steve that if he'd just ask her out, she'd say yes," Nat explained.

"Which is why I haven't asked," Steve replied, shooting Natasha a cold look. She didn't seem bothered. "I'm too busy. You know that. This isn't exactly the kind of job that allows for relationships."

"Telling him" to ask girls out seemed to put the whole situation mildly. Natasha took every moment they had alone as an opportunity to gush over a few girls she knew was interested in him. Steve didn't have the heart to tell he that his interest to women was limited to a woman who was no longer living.

“Excuses, excuses,” Sam said, sitting up and leveling Steve with a serious look. “Pretty sure a guy who can run 13 miles in 30 minutes can manage a relationship. It might do you some good.”

“Exactly,” Natasha said, smiling brightly. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” Steve deadpanned.

"I don't think it's a bad idea, Stevie. Gotta get back out there eventually," Bucky said, planting a firm hand on his shoulder.

Steve unwillingly flinched at the usually welcome contact, a shock of hurt shooting through his chest. He ignored it, chastising himself internally. He had played over this argument in his mind a million times since Bucky came back. Bucky was his friend. His best friend. Obviously Bucky didn't see Steve the same way Steve saw him, but that was okay. It had to be. They had been through so much together, he wouldn't throw everything away over something Bucky couldn't help. No. Bucky was his best friend, and that was enough for him.

His hand reached over to grip his shield. The cold metal beneath his fingers was strangely comforting. 

Steve tilted his head to shoot a smile at Bucky, but avoided his bright blue eyes, forcing himself to let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Yeah. Maybe."

Natasha watched the exchange, eyes narrowing. That wasn't the first time Steve acted off about the dating thing, but that look was new. She had definitely seen it before, but she couldn't quite place it.

Steve could feel Natasha staring at him so he cleared his throat, reaching for his headphones. "I'm going to catch some shut eye before we land. Wake me when we're close."

Steve pointedly avoided all their eyes as he leaned his seat back, and Bucky once again turned his attention to his book. Natasha looked over at Sam, who had finally given up any idea of catching a nap and she nudged her knee against his, trying to subtly get his attention. His eyes met hers, and she quirked her head toward Steve in question.

Sam held up his hands in surrender, his eyes saying, "not my business, not my problem."

Natasha fought the urge to sigh. She peeked over at Steve once more time, pursing her lips, then opened her laptop to Skype with Clint before they landed.

*****

To Peter's surprise, he and Mr. Stark had quite a bit in common. After his shower, Mr. Stark showed him all of the tools in his lab, and introduced him to JARVIS, which was easily the most impressive program he would probably ever have the pleasure of using. Even though Mr. Stark's primary focus of study was in Engineering and Physics, his interests often bled into other sciences, just like Peter's. Peter felt like he could sit and talk to Mr. Stark about science for hours, bouncing ideas and theories off of each other, without ever running out of things to talk about. Mr. Stark was really impressed with his web formula, and even gave him a few tips on how to make the shooters dispense it more effectively.

Before he knew it, he was being shuffled into Mr. Stark’s car, and Peter was at Stark Tower, waiting anxiously on the landing pad. He didn't really get to talk to Miss Widow (was that what he should call her?) when they were in Germany, as she was too busy preparing to set the whole fight in motion, but he couldn't wait to see her again. She was amazing during the fight, despite the fact that, from what he could tell, she seemed to not have enhanced abilities, like Mr. Stark.

"Wait, that red fire-hand girl isn't going to be here, right?" Peter asked, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "She kind of threw a lot of cars at me last time."

Tony smirked, but shook his head. "Wanda is off on a super vacation with Vision. You'll only have to deal with Natasha for now."

"Wanda, huh? Wow." Who knew the girl who swatted him away like a-well, a spider, would share a namesake with a fairly odd parent.

Tony gave him a questioning look, but any question he could have asked was drown out by the noise of the jet landing. Their hair whipped around and they watched as the wings of the jet shifted, and it descended onto the pad. Despite the internal turmoil Peter was feeling, the excitement of getting to meet Black Widow again was boiled over his thoughts, leaving him feeling giddy and warm. The jet door opened and Peter grinned as Natasha stepped out, wearing comfier clothes than he would have expected from someone coming back from a mission to wear. To both his and Tony's surprise, she was followed shortly after by Sam, then Steve and Bucky.

Tony swallowed and his jaw tensed, but managed to keep his face impassive. Peter, on the other hand, looked ecstatic. He knew he should probably be worried that an argument could break out or that he was meeting the guys he fought face-to-face, but he didn't let himself dwell on it.

Tony threw his thumb back toward the door and Peter nodded, following him back into the building to the "Greeting Parlor."

The Greeting Parlor was made up of three parts: the emergency medical wing, the lounge, and the council room, usually reserved for Accords meetings because Tony hated having Ross in his personal space. The lounge was where they headed now, the furniture much more casual and inviting than the furniture in Tony's apartment, but no less expensive looking. Light from the windows brightened the already warm colors, and Peter could smell the food Tony ordered filling the room.

Tony immediately headed for the bar, texting Happy that they were going to need to order more food as per the unexpected guests, before pulling out what he needed for the mandatory afternoon shake Pepper insisted he start drinking. Peter made a face of disgust as he threw various veggies into the blender with some nasty looking off-white liquid and pushed the on button, turning the chunky liquid into a disgustingly green smoothie. Peter cringed, a shiver going down his spine and pulled on his shirt nervously, trying to make himself look presentable. May would kill him if she knew he was meeting the Avengers in a shirt that was two sizes too big. It's not like he had much of a choice though. Tony's clothes were the only ones he had after his shower. At least he was clean, though.

Peter looked around, turning in a small circle then stood awkwardly near the center of the room, unsure where to sit.

The others finally made their way inside and their eyes were instantly drawn to Peter, each of them looking him over with varying degrees of interest. The dropped their bags behind the couch and Bucky stayed standing there, arms crossed.

"Who's your friend, Tony?" Sam asked, plopping down on the couch. His voice was light but his eyes watched Peter distrustfully.

"Didn't feel the need to fill them in, Nat?"

Natasha shook her head, pulling a chair out from the bar and turning it around so she could sit in it backward. "And let you miss out on the opportunity to explain it yourself? Never."

Tony didn't give her the satisfaction of being annoyed, and instead giving Peter a pointed look and gesturing to the group. “Care to introduce yourself?”

Peter nodded, taking a shaky breath, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists at his side. "So, uh. Hi. I'm Peter. Parker. I'm Spider-Man."

The room fell silent, and Peter glanced at Tony, feeling uncertain. Tony was tense, but he kept himself moving at the bar, trying to look unconcerned. Maybe they shouldn't have told them. They didn't exactly look thrilled. Natasha was looking at the others, gauging their reactions, but she couldn't deny that she was just as surprised as the others. She knew Spider-Man was there, but for him to be so young...

"You're Spider-Man?" Steve finally spluttered.

The kid in front of him was hardly what he imagined the man beneath the Spider-Man mask to look like. He knew his figure was lean, but to be able to do the things he saw Spider-Man do, it was incredible. Definitely nothing he associated as possible for a teenager to be able to do.

Peter brightened, and he gave Steve a cute little wave.

"Well, yeah. Uhm-Good to see you again, Mr. Captain America, sir. Sorry I took your shield, you know, in Germany. It's a lot lighter than I expected. By the way, what material is it made out of? I was thinking magnesium alloy, but based on the dimensions I got online-"

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and Nat was having to press her lips together to keep from laughing.

"Kid. Can we drop the fanboying until after we give them all the details on the doom and gloom?"

"He's a kid," Bucky said, looking irritable. Peter's face fell. Bucky knew that Tony could sometimes be impulsive, but this was extreme even for him.

Tony glared at him, noticing the look on the kid's face. "Thanks for the insight. That would have been nice to know before I recruited him."

"Shit. I dropped a truck on him," Cap said, regretfully.

"Language," Nat commented quietly, pulling smirk from Tony.

Peter felt a small smile creeping on his face. "Don't worry about it, really. Not many people can say they got to fight Captain America. Definitely on my top five proudest moments.”

Natasha peeked a look at Tony, who was rolling his eyes dramatically. Steve on the other hand was crossing his arms, looking pleased with himself.

"Oh come on. Don’t tell me he already won you over. He webbed my arm," Sam said, grabbing a box of the Thai food off the coffee table. He pointed at Peter with his chopsticks. “Not cool.”

“Actually, I'm pretty sure I webbed your whole body, man. To the floor. To be fair though, you kind of flew me through a window." Peter stopped thoughtfully, reminiscing how great it felt to finally put his powers to the test. He perked, remembering something, and looked at Bucky. "I did web his arm, though. Which is super cool, by the way. I think I may have mentioned that in the fight, but in case I didn't-yeah. Awesome."

Bucky looked at Tony, incredulous, pushing a stray hair out of his face. "I'm really not surprised he's a kid. How we didn't notice before is beyond me."

"I'm going to be 18 in three months," Peter scowled, his joy quickly morphing into annoyance.

Steve laughed at the transition, and the others looked at him in disapproval. He flushed and shrank back into the couch. "What? It's not that bad. I joined the army at 18."

"Yeah, see? Mr. America's got my back," Peter said, excitedly. Steve gave an assuring nod and a smile that definitely did not give Peter butterflies.

"It's Steve, kid. Just Steve."

"Why? Why is everyone calling me that?" Peter asked, quietly exasperated, but nobody acknowledged the question.

"As great as it is to have Steve's approval, kid, we should probably let them know why you decided to tell us who you were in the first place."

Contrary to the tone of his words, Tony felt lighter, glad to see the kid wasn't as tense as he was before. He wasn't exactly thrilled to be blindsided by the rest of the team's appearance, but if this was the result he needed to make a note not to give Natasha too much hell for it. He tossed a manila folder at Peter, and Peter caught it deftly with his web, pulling it to him in one swift movement, despite not having been looking in Tony's direction. Tony's lips turned down in approval and Peter grinned at him.

"Gunna have to do more than that to catch me off guard, old man," Peter teased.

Tony grabbed at his chest. "Words cut deep, Underoos. Who will take me serious now that I’ve been called out by the Arachnikid?”

“Arachnikid. Hilarious,” Peter huffed, shaking his head.

Tony grabbed the rest of the stack of Manila folders from the bar and started passing them around, pressing a button on the coffee table as he walked past. A hologram bloomed to life, a spinning red and gold Stark Industries logo hovering above the table.

"Okay, so I wasn’t able to get a lot of information that we didn’t have already, but I figured you guys should look over everything we have just in case you see something I didn’t. Not likely but,” Tony pressed a button on the remote in his hand, and a photograph of a blood streaked floor popped up at the top left of the hologram, bits of the floor showing through the blank spaces of The Red Skull. Steve's eyes flitted to Peter, who was looking at the screen with a mix of emotions to complex to pick through.

“The first paper you have in your folder is this picture of Peter's apartment. According to Peter, he was out on patrol until around 10:30 and when he got back home, he found this on the floor," Tony explained, pointing at the hydra symbol plastered in blood on the floor. “The other papers inside are from the police report, containing his statement and a log of evidence found at the scene.”

“Definitely Hydra,” Bucky commented, frowning in concentration at the picture. “Always had a flair for the dramatic.”

Steve gave Bucky a look, but he just shrugged.

"What do they want with Peter?" Sam asked, flipping through the pages, then looking at Stark. "I mean, cool, his mom's a spider or whatever. Doesn't Hydra usually want to make their own soldiers?"

"My mom's not a-you know what. Never mind," Peter sighed, when the man started to smirk at Peter’s serious agitation.

"Until we find evidence on the contrary, we are going to have to operate under the conjecture that Hydra targeted Peter because of the Avengers," Tony said, slowly.

"You mean because of you," Sam said, quirking an eyebrow. Steve watched intently as Tony gave a jerky nod, but didn't answer.

Peter looked between the Sam and Mr. Stark, confused.

"Wait, what? Am I missing something? How is this Mr. Stark's fault?"

"He pulled you into this, kid," Bucky said, gripping onto the back of the couch gently, feeling his shoulder pop as he stretched his limbs. "Not that I really blame him. You guys were seriously understaffed."

Nat and Tony shared an amused look, despite the heavy topic. Peter couldn't help but wonder if he was missing out on an inside joke.

"This isn't Mr. Stark's fault," Peter said sternly, putting his folder on the table. "He's done nothing but help me."

"You can't know that, kid," Tony said, regret deep in his voice.

“Maybe Peter should go wait in the penthouse,” Bucky said, seeing Peter’s anger starting to build.

Peter was about to argue, but Steve cut him off. “This is his aunt. You can’t expect him to just take a back seat with this.”

Peter shot him a grateful look.

“This isn’t about his aunt. It’s about Hydra. Do you really want him to hear what we know?”

Steve’s jaw tensed, his eyes flitting to Tony’s subconsciously. “If he’s involved he deserves to know.”

Tony pretended not to notice that Steve wasn’t just talking about Peter now. He watched the friends bicker, wondering how he got stuck taking care of the children by himself. He blamed Bruce.

Suddenly, Steve stood up so he could look at Bucky properly, only getting more riled up the longer the argument continued. Bucky responded in kind, stepping closer to him, his voice venomous.

“Are you going to be the one to tell him the hard stuff?” Bucky asked, metal hand clenching almost painfully tight. “Are you going to explain why the kid might be better off praying his aunt isn’t alive? Because I know I’ve had that conversation many times, and no matter how involved the kid is, he isn’t ready to hear what Hydra does to those that survive.”

“If I have to,” Steve replied evenly.

A flash of anger crossed Bucky’s face, and without thinking, Peter shot a web at Bucky’s feet, sticking him in place just a few feet from Steve. Everyone looked up at him in surprise.

“I-I’m sorry. I thought you were going to punch him or something,” Peter stammered, embarrassed.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Sam conceded. Bucky wasn’t amused.

“Alright, alright, leave the kid alone,” Tony said, waving his hand.

Bucky, incredulous, looked pointedly at his webbed foot. Steve sighed, bending over to cut his foot free.

“Natasha, you are now the designated metaphorical stop sign. You think there’s something that is above the kid’s pay grade, he’s out. Until then, Peter stays. You guys have a problem with that?” Tony asked, moving his eyes from Bucky, to Steve and then finally on Peter.

“Actually, I-“

“You don’t get a vote, I changed my mind,” Tony said, clicking a button on the remote, pulling up a new sheet. Steve and Bucky sat down on the couch, the tension gone from both of them. Peter pouted, following their lead and sitting down in the recliner near the bar.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as everyone read through their papers. “What’s the fourth sheet, Tony? I don't understand any of it."

Tony tapped on his phone and the screen lit up with the form in question. "Oh, this is a sample of the blood Peter managed to nab before the cops arrived. It came back as positive for May Parker, but it also had some weird compound I've never seen. It may be nothing but I sent an email to Bruce earlier just in case. I'm going to work on figuring it out tonight by myself, but like I said, it may not even be important."

"Good luck with that. Just looks like a bunch of numbers to me," Bucky said, reaching over to the table, finally giving in to the hunger he had felt since arriving.

"I second that," Sam agreed, slurping the last of the liquid from his cup.

Tony stood next to the recliner Peter had taken over, eating his share of the food, waiting for more questions to start rolling in.

"Wait," Peter muttered. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter noticed a light was suddenly blinking near the bottom. He stepped closer to the screen, abandoning his folder on the arm of his chair. Tony watched him half-heatedly as he enjoyed real food. He’d already read everything he needed to know on that sheet.

Peter’s eyes scanned the lines beside the light, his lips moving slightly as he read the words to himself. At the end, his eyes widened and his head jerked up. "Mr. Stark? Isn't this.."

Tony didn’t like the sound of the slight tremor in the kid’s voice. He sat his food on the counter and looked at the space above Peter's finger. Near the very bottom, a small section had just been cleared through the system. The updated toxicology report showed something it hadn’t before. C11H17N3O8. His eyes flickered to Natasha worriedly.

Her lips pressed into a tight line.

"What is it?" Steve asked, his normal voice finally bleeding into something more like Captain America.

"Tetrodotoxin, right?" Peter asked, looking at Tony pleadingly. His palms were starting to sweat. It seemed like time slowed almost to a stop. The only proof that Peter had that time really was passing was the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. Tony found it almost impossibly difficult to force even the smallest nod, though it was clear by the look in Peter's eyes he already knew the answer.

"What does that mean?" Steve asked, concern written all over his face, looking between Stark and Peter. Tony put a consoling hand on Peter's shoulder, a deep grimace on his face. Natasha watched, her chest aching in sympathy.

Peter's stared at the screen, his face unreadable.

“It means she's probably already dead."


	3. The One Where They Argue-Part One, Probably

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is acting weird.  
> Some ships sink, some ships sail.

Peter still vividly remembered the night of his Uncle Ben's death. He wasn't sure if it was his enhanced senses or adrenaline, but each second was forever seared into his mind. He remembered the siren's wailing too far in the distance, people on the far street corner muttering in short panicked phrases, torn between the fear of approaching and concern for the kid holding a dying man. He could feel warm blood seeping through the fabric of Ben's night shirt and dripping down his shaking fingers, his knees aching from skidding them across the unforgiving concrete. He could still hear his choked off sobs, so loud in his ears he could barely hear his uncle's last words as his usually bright eyes dulled to lifelessness before him. False promises tumbling from his lips between pitiful cries, begging to anyone or anything that would listen to let his uncle live. 

Not that it mattered.

After something so traumatic, it only made sense that the fear of death that he had as a child in the wake of his parent's demise would resurface. Images of May dying over and over in dozens of different scenarios plagued his dreams for months. As different as they were, one thing they almost all had in common was that they ended in that same horrible position; him holding her in his arms watching her life fade away. When he would finally thrash himself awake, he would be shaking in fear, feeling gutted and empty.

Peter, for whatever reason, didn't feel that now. 

After Peter's proclamation, everyone was shifting, antsy and bursting with questions, but after a sharp warning glance from Natasha, everyone remained silent.

Tony watched Peter warily. For someone who was usually an open book, his face was impossible to read. His brows were slightly pulled together, but the rest of his face wasn't hard or grief stricken, like it was when he arrived at SI. He almost looked...resigned. Not that Tony was particularly good with any emotions, but what the hell was he supposed to do with that? How do you aid with resignation?

Tony walked to the bar, buying himself some time to think, meeting Natasha's eye as he passed. Despite what she would tell everyone, he saw first hand how nurturing in nature Natasha was. After New York, when she thought he was asleep, she would come to his room and fluff his pillows, running her fingers through his hair as she sang lullabies in his ear, just like his mom did when he was a child, the exception being that his mom sang in English, not Russian. He saw how much it pained her for the team, her family, to fight one another, how desperate she was to make things right between them . He would never tell her, but it was because of her that he worked day and night to come up with the initial revision of the Accords. It was because of her they were all together again. 

Tony nodded his head to Peter, pleading silently for her help as he grabbed Peter a water from the fridge. She shrugged, taken aback that he would ask her of all people, but gave him a curt nod of encouragement at getting him the water. He gave Natasha a 'thanks a lot' look, rolling his eyes, but she just smiled wryly. 

Steve watched the whole scene quietly, not wanting to intrude. He almost felt guilty for sitting there at all when the kid was obviously going through a lot, but there was more they needed to discuss before he could leave. So he did the next best thing, keeping his eyes trained on the floor while he waited for Peter to process what he just learned. 

He did look up when Tony started moving across the floor, glancing at Sam and Bucky to see if they noticed the way Tony seemed to be looking to Natasha for guidance. That was a new development. Tony never looked to anyone. They didn't seem to notice, though, so he told himself he would mention it to Natasha later. 

Tony placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, and he jumped. "Here kid. Drink up."

Tony seemed to hold his breath when the kid turned to look at him, Peter's eyes going from Tony to the bottle, and back before took the water. Peter watched his fingers as he unscrewed the top off slowly, before finally opening his mouth. 

"You aren't taking my suit, right?"

Tony blinked. 

"Uh-no," he answered, though it sounded slightly more like a question. "Did you do something that would make me take the suit?"

Peter relaxed a bit, shrugging, and took a drink of his water. 

"He wouldn't take it from you. Especially not now. He can't exactly let you go back to swinging around in a track suit and goggles with Hydra trying to get their hands on you," Sam quipped. Peter looked accusingly at Tony for the barb against his suit. Sam chuckled. "I do have YouTube, kid. You think we didn't do a little research after you handed our asses to us?"

Peter huffed out an embarrassed laugh. "I guess. Mr. Stark called it a onesie."

That pulled a surprised laugh out of the rest of them, but Tony couldn't force himself to join in, too busy staring holes into Peter in confusion. Did he step into a parallel universe? Where did the sad kid he saw earlier go?

"He wasn't wrong," Sam said, wiping away a fake tear with his knuckle. 

"I worked really hard on that!" 

That just made Sam start laughing again and Peter shook his head. 

Tony quirked his head, a small nagging suspicion cropping up in the back of his mind, making him uneasy. Something was up with Peter. 

"Everyone knows how much I hate to be the one to ruin the fun, but we need to figure out what we are going to do next," Bucky said. Contrary to his words, his face was hard and unamused. 

If anyone knew how terrible Hydra was, it was him. They tortured him. They turned him into a weapon. Sure, he felt bad for the kid, he really did. Losing your family sucked, but there was a reason Hydra targeted him, and unlike Tony and Sam, he wasn't entirely convinced it was because of the Avengers. 

Steve frowned. 

"Getting to Hydra is the priority, but maybe we should take a few days to-" Steve started, looking at Tony to keep his eyes from giving away the reason for his hesitation. 

"No, he's right," Peter interrupted. "If May is somehow alive, we need to find her. If she's not, well," Peter's eyes darkened. "How are we going to find them?"

The question had everyone arguing simultaneously. 

"Steve isn't saying we won't look-" Natasha.

"We can't just go after them without-" Steve.

"Bucky knows more about Hydra-" Sam.

"We don't even know what we are looking-" Bucky. 

"I'm not a kid. I should be able to say whether-" Peter.

Tony opened his mouth to speak too, then shut it, waiting for an opening that didn't come. They all continued to argue, slowly getting louder and louder. 

"Okay, yeah. No," Tony said shaking his head in annoyance. 

Nobody even looked his way as he stalked to the bar to pick up the remote from where he left it by his drink. He casually pulled out his earplugs and put them in, making sure they are sealed nicely inside before pressing a button near the bottom of the remote. A piercing noise cut through the room, making everyone grab for their ears in pain. Tony waited a few seconds until he was sure everyone got the picture, then cut it off. 

"The hell Tony?" Sam groaned. 

"Ow," Peter agreed, glaring at Tony who was too busy pulling out his earplugs to notice. 

"Eloquently put," Steve muttered, a slight wince still on his face.

Natasha looked put out but didn't comment, settling for shooting daggers at him with her eyes. 

"Sorry," Tony said, offhandedly, lips turning down. Then he smirked, taking any semblance of an apology and squashing it. 

"Alright. Now that you guys have graciously blessed me with your attention, here's the thing. As much as we think the kid needs a break," Tony quickly shoots Peter a 'don't argue' look before he could even open his mouth, "we can't just sit around and wait. The longer we put off looking into Hydra, the colder the trail gets."

"There probably isn't a trail left. It's been three days," Bucky argued, crossing his arms. Tony's jaw tensed as Peter's shoulders slumped with guilt. He remembered the comment Peter made about how he should have come to Tony sooner. It wasn't the kid's fault, and Bucky wasn't helping get that point across. Bucky must have caught the look on Tony's face. "I'm just saying. This is Hydra. You think me, Steve, and Sam have just been sitting around doing nothing during our down time the last few months? If there was something to be found, we would've found it."

"We haven't had any leads, though," Steve said. "Now we have somewhere to start."

Bucky looked at his best friend, who was looking back down at his papers. It wasn't unusual for the two to have their disagreements, but it felt like this entire conversation had been one argument after another, Steve waving away all of Bucky's points like they didn't mean anything. Bucky bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head to himself. 

"I don't expect us to be able to run into a fight guns blazing, as convenient as that would be," Tony said. "We will have to know more before we can do anything. We don't even know a location. Until we do, Natasha can be looking for information. I will get Bruce to come back and help with the unknown substance while the Howling Grandpas and affiliate keep doing whatever it is they do.” 

"What about me?" Peter asked. 

"What about you?" Tony asked, feigning ignorance. He didn't really want to have this argument right now. Did he think the kid deserved to face the guys who took his aunt? Yes. Was he going to let him? Good question, but he didn't really want to, no. Peter's answer though, wasn't what Tony expected. 

"I have a math test Monday." 

Bucky rolled his eyes, turning away from the group and stepping away. This was ridiculous. 

"I guess you'll be going to school on Monday," Natasha said, her voice mirthful. Tony shot her a look, but she kept her eyes on Peter. Peter nodded, swallowing all of the questions that came with her statement, like how he would get there and where he would stay, unsure he wanted to hear the answers just yet.

Peter's phone started to ring from the pocket of Tony's oversized basketball shorts, which were only being held up by the tightly drawn strings. He looked a bit sheepish when everyone realized it was the Avenger's cartoon theme song. He pulled it out quickly and his face pinched together. 

"Uh-Mr. Stark, it's my friend Ned. Can I?" Peter pointed toward the door. 

"Sure thing, kid. Take your time," Tony said, nodding. 

They all waited until Peter was out of the door before they started talking again. 

"How do we know the kid isn't a Hydra operative?" Sam asked, hurriedly. "All of a sudden, after months of hearing nothing, this superhuman kid who didn't want his identity known is coming to us with information on hydra. How are you not questioning this?"

"I did, but he's not," Tony said, confidently. "I questioned him when he got here and he checked out."

"You were so sure that I was the one who killed King T'Chaka. How do you know you're not wrong about this?" Bucky asked pointedly. 

"JARVIS ran a scan. Peter is definitely the same person from Germany. Plus, I was the one who recruited him, not the other way around," Tony said firmly. 

"That doesn't mean he hasn't been brainwashed since then," Natasha conceded, brows drawn in thought. Tony shot her a hurt look and she backpedaled. "To be fair, I don't think he's hydra. I think he's a kid who's a bit in over his head who went to his hero for help, but I do understand the reason behind their doubt."

"Nobody going to point out that the kid has been joking around for the last 15 minutes, despite his aunt being dead?" Sam asked. 

Tony winced. So the other's had noticed. Tony really wasn't sure what to make of the kid's nonchalance, but he wasn't going to let them say he was a bad guy, not when Tony knew better. There was countless footage of the kid helping out around Queens, whether that meant stopping muggings and robberies or helping a single mother carry in her groceries, and nobody could fake being good for that long. 

"There's no guarantee she's dead," Tony snapped. Sam and Natasha each sent him an unimpressed look and he scoffed, shifting on his feet. "Okay, the possibility is pretty high. Even if she is, he's going through a lot, and everyone grieves differently. Some people act fine, some people don't."

"Some people beat their friends to a damn pulp," Sam muttered. 

Tony froze.

"That's enough, Sam," Steve said, sharply, making Sam flinch. Bucky raised his brows, but didn’t argue. He wasn’t going to put himself in the middle of it. No more than he had to. 

Steve turned his attention back to Tony, wanting to set things right but the damage was already done. Steve could see Tony's walls slamming back down around him. 

Tony grit his teeth together painfully. "I'm going to go get the kid settled in. You can show yourselves out or to your floors, I don't care."

Nobody protested, watching him as he went to find Peter.

****

Peter wasn't sure what to tell Ned as he walked to the spare bedroom Tony pointed out to him earlier that evening. He was Peter's best friend, but he didn't always keep the most level head. Not that Peter did either, but he couldn't handle both of them freaking out right now. 

"How did it go after we disconnected?" Ned asked. 

"As well as it could have," Peter said, feeling nauseated at the memory of throwing himself at Mr. Stark, crying like a baby. It definitely wasn’t his proudest moment. He finally made it to the room and opened the door, kicking his shoes off and putting them side by side by the door. 

"What did Mr. Stark say?"

"They aren't sure what is going on, but I know for he will help. I'm just not sure about the others yet," he said, trying to contain his excitement at the sight of the ginormous bed in front of him. He crawled on the bed, practically melting into the cold comfort of the fluffy blankets. 

"The others?" Ned asked, confused. Then he gasped. "Ohmygod, tell me you did not just meet the rest of the Avengers!"

Peter laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked around, making sure nobody was around him, and lowered his voice. "You were definitely right about Captain America being even hotter up close."

"No way!" Ned wailed. "You know you have to introduce us right? He's my favorite. You can keep Iron Man."

"You aren't even gay, Ned," Peter laughed, then after a beat of thought he added, "And neither are they."

"It do be like that, though," Ned quoted. Peter rolled his eyes, smirking. 

"So what are you guys going to do? Where are you going to start looking?"

Peter pursed his lips together in thought. They didn't really go into specifics, did they? Would they have to have some sort of special meeting with the Accords board? That stuff didn't really make sense to him, and since he wasn't involved, he wasn't sure what the rules and stipulations on missions were. 

"Mr. Stark said we couldn't really do anything until we find out more about-you know, the people that took her," Peter explained, frowning. 

A soft knock on the door kept Ned from replying. 

"Yeah?" Peter called out. "Come in."

The door opened. 

"Oh, hey, Mr. Stark. What-What are you doing here?" He asked.

Tony stood at the open door, only stepping far enough inside to open the door all the way, his hand staying firm on the doorknob. 

"What am I doing in the guest bedroom of my house?" Tony asked, eyebrow raised. 

"Uhm-Yes?"

Tony barked out a laugh. "We are done talking for tonight. I just wanted to let you know so you didn't spider crawl back up the spout just to find we were all gone."

Peter laughed at the spider motions Tony made with his hands. 

"Okay, thanks."

Tony stayed in the doorway, and looked around the room. 

"So, I'm not sure what Capcicle and the others are planning to do but I'm going to be in my shop pretty early in the morning if you want to come up and work with me."

"Really?" Peter said. 

"Absolutely. Just don't touch any of my suit parts without asking and we won't have a problem," Tony said, feeling warm at his obvious excitement. 

"Ask him about that program we made," Ned said loudly, despite being on speaker. 

"Oh yeah. Ned said he could strengthen your firewalls, you know, since we hacked your system," Peter explained, sitting more casually on the bed now. 

Tony shrugged. He wasn't sure how he felt about anything in that sentence. He didn't really trust this Ned kid, seeing as he didn't know him, for one. He also wasn't pleased that two teenagers managed to hack his system that was supposed to be virtually unhackable. 

"I'd have to see how it works and run my own tests, but I'll look into it."

"Awesome!" Ned exclaimed. 

"I'm assuming you don't mind staying tonight?" Tony asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Peter shook his head. "Of course not. Thank you, actually. For letting me, I mean. And dinner. And talking to the others."

Tony waved it off. 

“Alright well, you know where the kitchen is. You have your own bathroom. You need anything else just ask JARVIS. He can help you or he can tell you where I am and you can come find me. Make yourself at home."

"Okay. Goodnight, Mr. Stark."

"Night, kid."

*****

Tony was standing on the roof of Stark tower, his arms hanging off the rails, hands clasped together. The cool air nipped at his bare skin, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. In fact, after the day he had, it was nice to feel something physical for a change. He looked over at the millions of lights shining in the dark, thinking about how much had changed in just a few short hours.

For what was supposed to be a rather boring day at the office, it seemed now that he was thrown in the middle of an emotional hurricane. If he was being honest, he wasn't sure what he thought of Peter at first. He liked him well enough when they talked before Germany, but meeting him in person was different. It always was when you met the person behind the mask. In less than a day, though, the kid already had Tony's full protection. 

Tony couldn't explain the protectiveness he felt over the kid, but he did know that they were a lot alike. Tony wished he would've met Peter sooner, so he could go back in time and fire all of those interns Pepper tried to push on him. Peter was brilliant. He knew the kid was pretty bright before, judging by the few gadgets he made from scratch with his original suit, but seeing him in action, watching him be able to keep up with all of the concepts Tony discussed with him was incredible. 

Tony turned when he heard the creaking of the door behind him, then turned back to the lights, huffing quietly. He tried to push the sound of her footsteps coming toward him out of his head. He wasn't in the mood for chit-chat. Tony contemplated counting how many seconds it would take Nat to open her mouth and ruin the quiet, but she started talking before he could convince himself to start.

"Can't see the stars here," Natasha said, leaning over the guard rail, her nose wrinkling as she looked up at the sky. "Clint's house has the best view of the stars."

"Observant," Tony snarked, half-heartedly. 

Natasha expected this. Tony had always been the type to hide from people when his emotions were too big to deflect with sarcasm, and when he was found he wasn't exactly the most personable to be around.

"Interesting that you mention it. I'm thinking about becoming an assassin. Maybe an Avenger, if they'll have me."

Tony gave her a withering look, which only made the bad joke better. "Please don't." 

Natasha grinned, then let it slowly soften, the reminder of why she came out here hanging over her head. She ran her fingers over the cold hand rail, wishing she was better at this kind of thing. 

“Sam was an ass.”

Tony sighed. He didn’t want to think about that right now. 

“He wasn’t wrong.”

“Yeah, well. He wasn’t really right, though, either.” She rested one foot on the bottom bar. “Nobody can really understand what you were going through in Siberia. You just found out about your parents, and that your friend had been keeping it from you.”

“He was protecting Barnes,” he said, lightly. “I know that now.”

Natasha sighed, harshly. “Which is exactly why they need to lay off.”

Tony rubbed his hands together, and a puff of white spilled from his lips. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you they were with me. I thought I was helping. I hoped if you were in the same room,” Natasha sighed, but didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t have to. 

Tony kicked his newly polished shoe against the concrete, distracting himself by scuffing the bottoms.

“There is just too much to think about right now,” Tony admitted, softly. “Steve showing up with the others, then the kid..” he trailed off, shaking his head. 

“It's not your fault, you know?" She said, trying to sound casual. "The kid knows that, too."

"He thinks that," Tony corrected, side-eyeing her. "Just because he doesn't think it's my fault, doesn't mean he's right."

Nat knew a losing fight when she saw one. She didn't agree, but nothing she said would convince him otherwise. So instead of arguing, she twisted the emerald green ring around on her middle finger. 

"It's not fair. He's a 17 year old kid, and he's got nobody left. You saw his file, didn't you?"

Natasha nodded, solemnly. She looked it up almost as soon as she was alone. It wasn't a happy history lesson. Dead parents, watching his Uncle bleed out in his arms, and now his aunt was gone? Nat pulled her jacket tighter around her, thinking to herself. 

"You couldn't have known this was going to happen. Even if they were targeting him for us, it's nobody's fault but theirs. Peter's going to be okay."

Tony scoffed, indignant. "None of us are okay, Nat."

Natasha couldn't argue with him there. It seemed like a requirement of the gig at this point. 

"He's got a place to sleep, and he knows he's not alone. For right now, that will have to be enough." 

Tony didn't have anything to say to that, his eyes just trained on the buildings below. He wanted to believe that she was right, that the kid would recover, but he knew from experience that there was only so much heartbreak someone could take before they are just a shell of the person you used to be, who you could have been. 

"We can't let him leave."

That got Tony's attention. He finally peeled his eyes off of the view in front of him and met Nat's brilliant green eyes, his brow furrowed. Her face was soft, beautiful, loose ringlets of red hair brushing against her face with the flow and ebb of the breeze. It was the most open expression he ever remembered seeing on her face, yet the determined set of her brow was still there, ingrained from years of picking herself up from the floor, from fighting tooth and nail to survive. Tony always appreciated that about her, as someone who caught a glimpse of what that life was like. 

"What are you suggesting exactly?"

"He needs to stay here. With us. We need to make sure he's safe. If hydra really is after him, the safest place for him would be with us," she explained. Tony straightened a bit, feeling relieved he wasn't the only one thinking so. 

“What about the others? They’re convinced he could be Hydra.”

Natasha thought for a moment. “All the more reason to keep him close.” 

Tony frowned, but didn’t argue. 

"He’s a kid. He has to go to school."

"Then send him to school.”

"What if the teachers start asking questions about where he's staying? Word will get out his Aunt is missing. We are technically kidnapping him if we keep him, you know that right?"

Natasha's eyes brightened, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "It's really cute that you think you are trying to convince me, and not yourself. You're a billionaire. Figure it out."

Tony turned his face to the dark, starless sky, fighting and failing not to smile. "And if the kid has any sense whatsoever and doesn't want to stay?"

Natasha shrugged, but didn't look to concerned with the possibility. "He looks at you like you are the greatest thing he's ever seen. You are, quite literally, his hero. He came to you when he needed help."

"After three days," Tony interjected. 

Natasha sighed, and put a soft hand on top of Tony's. His eyes widened a fraction at the contact, looking from her hand back to her face. His eyes were drawn to her upturned lips as her long, slender fingers squeezed his, cold against his naturally warm skin. His heart stuttered his chest. 

Natasha hadn’t touched him like this since she stopped pretending to be Natalie. He knew it was all an act, all a game to her. She was trying to get information for Fury, and she succeeded. None of it was real. Every light touch, every flirtation, every hint that she gave that she cared was fake. For her. 

“Tony, for once in your life, stop overthinking and stop being stubborn. If he doesn't want to be here, fine. We will find another place where he will be safe. Until then, ask him. I'm sure if he said yes, Pepper could have a lawyer draw up papers in less than 48 hours."

"Knowing Pep she could probably have it done in 24," he said tilting his head and shrugging, trying to sound lighthearted despite the thundering in his chest. 

Natasha laughed, bumping their shoulders together playfully. "You'll be good for him, you know. And I'm sure he will be good for you, too."

Natasha's face was so close to Tony's when he looked up, he could see each individual eyelash and their shadows as they brushed against her cheeks. He felt the familiar heat ignite in his chest at the beauty of it and he attempted to swallow the temptation crawling up his throat. 

They hadn’t been back in the same room but a day and he could already feel Natasha creep back under his skin It seemed like he kept letting that happen. Part of him kept trusting her. He trusted her when she was pretending to be his assistant. He trusted her when they were on the same side of the Accords. His ego, his trust, his pride were always the ones to get shattered.

Despite that, for half a second, he considered giving in. He could see it in his mind, him leaning forward, pressing his lips into hers. He wondered if they would be cold and smooth like her fingers, or warm and soft like her smile. 

As if reading his mind, Nat rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and it came back out shiny and pink. Tony quickly turned away, the sight of it overwhelming. He stood and straightened his jacket, hoping she couldn't see the heat that flushed his cheeks, and then cleared his throat. "I'll message Pep first thing in the morning. You should definitely get some sleep. I'm sure you're exhausted."

"Yeah. Right," she said hurriedly, nodding in agreement, but she didn't move. She looked at where her hand had rested over Tony's, and wished she could still feel his skin against hers. "Don't stay up here too long or you'll freeze."

Tony nodded, not trusting his voice. Her gaze lingered on his dark brown eyes a second too long before she turned back to the compound, the nagging feeling of missed opportunity pulling her lips down as soon as Tony could no longer see her face. 

Tony watched her walk away, feeling a mix of relief and regret, both of them fighting for dominance. 

"Natasha," Tony called after her, her name sounding like is was forced out of him. He looked at the sky briefly, pained by his own impulsiveness. She stopped, then turned slowly, hesitance clear in her movements. "Thanks for coming out. For talking to me. I-you're-you just," Tony sighed, irritably. "Thanks."

Natasha couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face if she tried. Tony Stark just stuttered. It was strange how endearing she found it.

"Anytime, Stark."

This time her smile stayed plastered to her face until she was well out of Tony's sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...  
> 🥺  
> 👉🏻👈🏻
> 
> What did you think?
> 
> Just FYI, the Nat and Tony thing is a complete surprise. I was planning on hinting at Bruce/Tony and Bucky/Tony pairings, then letting my readers decide which they liked better, then this happened. Don’t ask how, because I don’t know. 
> 
> Also, did you guys like the extra long chapter, or did you prefer them shorter like they were in the previous chapters? 
> 
> As always, comment are always welcome, be they compliments or constructive criticism! So hit me up, bro.


	4. Could’ve Gone Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward kitchen run-in.  
> Tony gets to see Peter in action in the lab.  
> They all get news on the Hydra front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I keep meaning to mention this, despite nobody having actively brought it up, but I keep forgetting!
> 
> I am aware that after JARVIS is uploaded into Vision, Tony develops Friday to replace him. There are two reasons I didn’t use Friday. 
> 
> One, because I adore sassy old butlers (See Jarvis and Alfred Pennyworth) and enjoy using JARVIS much more than I enjoy using FRIDAY. 
> 
> Second, and definitely less honorable, I posted two chapters before I realized I should have been using FRIDAY, and by then I didn’t want to have to go back and change it. Originally I was only writing for myself, so it wasn’t a big deal, but I thought I should let you guys know it wasn’t because a lack of knowledge that I used JARVIS, just a personal preference. 
> 
> Also, if you are wondering, obviously Peter is soon to be 18, but I picture Steve and Buck to be 23. They both joined the military at 18, then spent two years doing their thing before Steve got frozen in the ice. The last three years the events of the all the movies leading up to Civil War have happened. So yeah.

When Pepper opened the email from Tony that morning asking them to watch the attached footage, seeing a meeting between the still-feuding Avengers was far from what they were expecting.

After the silence stretched, they turned to glance at each other. They were both still in their night clothes, as Pepper stopped working on Fridays months ago knowing that having a free day on the weekend was near-impossible, and Rhodey had yet to put on the equipment for his "bot legs." Pepper's face was pinched, torn between being convinced this was an elaborate prank and concern. Rhodey just looked tired.

"It is too damn early for this," Rhodey said, shaking his head. He laid back down, putting the pillow over his face, muffling his words. "Friday's are for sleeping. I've told Tony this. Numerous times."

Pepper laughed and shook her head, still trying to wrap her head around all of the information she just received.

"Tony's not one for sleeping," Pepper said, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail.

"This though? This is a little over the top to dump on us right after a two day SI meeting," Rhodey said.

"Got me there," Pepper agreed.

Rhodey was about to speak again, but JARVIS came over the speakers.

"Mr. Stark would like me to ask if you have any questions about his email," JARVIS said.

"Any questions?" Pepper asked. "Of course we have questions. Which should we start with, honey? The fact that Tony is wanting to adopt a random child he hardly knows, or how he managed to be in the same room with the three musketeers for more than five minutes without spontaneously combusting?"

"Mr. Stark would like to point out it is not an adoption, but a temporary guardianship. Mr. Parker turns 18 in four months," JARVIS corrected, then after a pause added. "Also, Peter is hardly random. He's the Spider-Man."

"Hardly ran..." Pepper started, incredulous. "That is not what I'm having a hard time with, Tony! I know you are listening. I'm worried about the company. I'm worried about a child being integrated into your craziness. You and the Avengers just got back together after trying to rip each other apart and we still have Stark Industries to run, believe it or not. On top of trying to find Hydra, how do you expect to take care of a kid?"

"Who else would?" Rhodey asked beside her. She turned to her boyfriend, her eyebrows pulled together.

"What?"

Rhodey put a gentle hand on her thigh and squeezed it softly. "This kid obviously doesn't have anybody else. At least here he would be taken care of."

"Yeah, I know but James-" Pepper grimaced. "Do you really think this is what's best?"

The anger that was ringing from her voice just moments earlier was gone, and the crack in her mask revealed what she was really feeling. Fear.

Living this lifestyle was dangerous. Pepper almost lost Tony too many times to count. Hell, the whole reason Rhodey and Pepper even started dating was because of her help with his physical therapy regiment after Germany. Letting a child take up arms knowing what they knew seemed like throwing his life away.

Pepper may not know Peter from Adam, but she didn't want that for him. From what she just learned, Peter could have a bright future ahead of him. Was it so wrong to hope he didn't have to be sucked into this?

"Come on, Pep. How often does Tony really make selfish decisions?"

Pepper arched a brow, with a look in her eye that implied she had a very long list drafted somewhere in the case of being confronted with this very question.

"I mean, recently," he conceded. "He's changed a lot. From what Tony said, the kid is on his own. He seems to have a pretty good handle on his powers, but if he's not with us, he will just keep doing what he's doing on his own and no kid like that should be alone. At least here he has a support system. Would it really be so bad for the kid to be surrounded by people that know who he is?"

Pepper bit the inside of her cheek. If Rhodey knew her at all, she was running through the logistics in her head five times over. "I just don't know how this is supposed to work."

Rhodey shrugged forcing out a laugh. "If anybody could do it, it's Tony. Plus, the kid seems to trust him. Poor judge of character, obviously, but he seems like a good enough kid."

"Hey!" Tony's voice came over the speaker. "I'm a delight, sour patch, and you know it."

"Mr. Stank?" Rhodey called out innocently. "Is that you?"

Tony rubbed a hand down his face. "I'm never going to hear the end of that am I?"

"Never. Not until I'm six feet under. Then I pass the torch to Pepper," Rhodey said.

"A torch I will happily wield," Pepper said, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek. "What are you planning on doing with him, Tony? Do you even know how to handle a normal teen? How are you going to deal with one undergoing trauma and a mountain of grief?"

"I'll do what I always do when I'm upset. I'll keep him busy. No biggie. You know us big-brained people are. We can just work our way through it, it'll be fine and not at all terrible," Tony said, easily. Pepper definitely thought it sounded rehearsed.

"Sure, Tones," Rhodey said, sounding equally unconvinced.

Pepper spent the next five minutes drilling Tony with questions as she drafted emails to Tony's lawyer and the PR manager. As they suspected, Pepper could manage the paperwork in 24-48 hours, with all the specific amendments needed to cover their specific situation.

"So I hate to ask this, but I need to know. When I bring this up-when I bring it to a vote with the team, will you guys back me up on this?" Tony asked, quietly.

"I don't understand why you are asking the team's opinion in the first place," Rhodey said.

Tony sighed, agitated.

"We can't keep going like we've been going. Nat said-"

"Say no more," Rhodey interrupted, a sly smile on his face. "That gives me everything I need to know."

"Setting asides whatever that is supposed to mean," Tony said, his voice low with warning. "Will you back me on this?"

Rhodey raised a questioning brow at Pepper.

She sighed, but a smile crept up on her face. "I always said you'd be a good dad. May as well do a test run."

*****

Peter managed to find clothes that swallowed him in a slightly less noticeable way when his alarm went off at 7 AM. He wasn't exactly sure what Mr. Stark meant by "pretty early" but no matter how bad his eyes stung from lack of sleep, he wasn't going to miss out on a single minute of time working with Tony Stark in his magical lab of awesomeness.

Peter knew subconsciously that something wasn't right with the way he was processing everything. He knew that he was distracting himself, trying to avoid thinking about the whole situation with Aunt May. He also knew at the back of his mind that he wouldn't be able to avoid thinking about it forever, but thankfully, the bigger, nicer part of Peter's brain decided that Peter deserved a freaking break.

One day, Peter and his parents were a happy family of three, the next they were gone. They took him to May and Ben's house for their monthly date night and the next time he saw them was in a casket, their faces so disturbingly still and flawless that he cried instantly upon seeing them, running away and taking refuge under the back pew, inconsolable, asking why his parents looked like that, what was wrong with their faces. His real mom and dad didn't look like that. His real mom and dad were smile wrinkled eyes and soft contentment. They were night time comics and lullabies, and cake for breakfast on birthdays. Until they weren't.

Then he lost Ben. The man who taught him what it meant to be a man, what it meant to put your family and the needs of others first. The one who pushed him to be the best he could be. The one that told him that he was good enough, even when he didn't believe it, and pushed him to apply for the Midtown High Scholarship. As if that wasn't enough, now May was gone. No. That wasn't right. He wouldn't lose her. He couldn't. He wouldn't survive it. So, blissfully ignorant of his inner turmoil, he made his bed and finished getting ready.

If Peter wanted to indulge in a healthy bit of denial, nice brain was going to let him.

"Uhm, JARVIS?" Peter called out, feeling a bit silly talking to the air.

"Yes, Mr. Parker? How may I assist you?"

Peter sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks. "Do you know if Mr. Stark is up yet?"

"Yes sir. It appears that Mr. Stark has been awake for a few hours," JARVIS replies. "He is already working in the lab."

Peter stopped from where he was tying his shoe and looked at the clock on his phone. "That can't be right. He left my room around 12."

"Mr. Stark slept from approximately 2:15 AM to 4: 48 AM, sir."

"Oh." Peter frowned. "How does Mr. Stark like his coffee? Does he even like coffee?"

"Yes. A triple shot of espresso from Colombian grounds with plenty of sugar is his favorite. There is actually a preset button on the maker in the communal kitchen," JARVIS replied.

"Okay, thanks JARVIS," Peter hopped off the bed and made his way out the door.

"Any time, Mr. Parker."

Peter turned down the first hall, and noticed a small camera in the corner, perched alongside the long white strip lining the wall like trim. As he continued walking he saw another camera, then another. Now that he noticed one, he could see them everywhere.

Peter stopped at one of the cameras above a plant in the corner of the living room, and narrowed his focus. Now that he was paying more attention to the trim-looking strip, he could see millions of small indentations. His brows furrowed in thought, wondering why simple trim would be designed that way, then realized that they must be speakers, which if he were correct, he suspected was for communicating with JARVIS. Mr. Stark did say that communication with his AI was available throughout the whole house, not just the rooms.

The strips seemed a little more time consuming to install, and perhaps a little overkill compared to a a single, or even multiple intercoms, but he had to admit, that seemed exactly the type of thing Mr. Stark would have in his house. Having the sound come from every direction was probably infinitely improving the sound quality without being deafeningly loud while giving it a more omniscient feel, if that even made sense. It was all about the flair.

When he made it to the kitchen, he was directed by JARVIS to the right cabinets and he pulled down two thermoses to start their coffee. Even though Peter saw all of these areas in passing the day before, he was still taken aback out how big everything was. Not just the rooms themselves, but everything in them. His bed last night, the tv that took up the entirety of one living room wall, the fridge and stove today, the table in the dining area. Seeing normal objects sized up made him feel oddly small.

"So JARVIS. Do you have to call me Mr. Parker? Or does it just make you more comfortable?" Peter asked, conversationally. The smell of coffee started filling the room as it brewed, making Peter's mouth water.

"I can call you whatever you would like, sir. However, it is polite to revert to formal titles until it is specified what each individual would prefer."

"Oh, well, you can just call me Peter, then, if that's okay. Hm. Do you think that's enough sugar?" Peter asked, frowning down at the cup. JARVIS did say Mr. Stark liked a lot, but he didn't want to be excessive.

"Absolutely not." His answer was immediate. "Only when you feel there is a disgusting amount, should you add a tablespoon or two more, then Mr. Stark will be pleased," JARVIS replied, sounding amused.

"Well okay then," Peter muttered, adding spoon-full after spoon-full of sugar until JARVIS finally told him to stop. Peter shook his head in amusement. No wonder he was drinking those gross looking green shakes. He had to counteract all of the sugar he was drinking somehow.

Peter started brewing his own cup then leaned against the counter, looking across the room where the morning light streamed through the window, letting his mind wander aimlessly.

"Hey, JARVIS. Mr. Stark said yesterday you were able to positively ID me through a scan. Could you do that before? I mean, could you have figured out my identity before I told Mr. Stark?"

"The moment Mr. Stark found you in the alley, I had enough information about you to reduce the pool of potential identities to about fifty. After sampling your voice, it was reduced to thirteen. Although, I believe the answer you are truly wanting me to answer is no. Mr. Stark did not attempt to discern your identity without your consent," JARVIS explained.

"That's good," Peter said lamely.

Despite the fact that he trusted Mr. Stark not to go against his wishes, hearing that he could have and actively chose not to made Peter feel even better about trusting him. Honestly, Mr. Stark was well within his rights to try to learn as much as he could about the man he was going to put his faith into, especially during a time where he couldn't trust his own team. He didn't though. He accepted that Peter didn't want anyone to know his identity, and he respected that.

"Good morning, Captain Rogers. Sergeant Barns," Jarvis greeted politely from a distance away.

Peter turned, surprised to hear a pair of footsteps, presumably Steve and Bucky, walking over from the elevator area, laughing quietly. He must have been too preoccupied with his thought to notice the arrival of the elevator.

When Steve looked up from his discussion to return JARVIS' pleasantries, he caught sight of Peter, looking comfortable as could be expected in the kitchen of his literal superheroes, and gave him a small smile and wave. Bucky however, either didn't notice or didn't care. Steve pulled softly on the lower back of Bucky's shirt to slow him and Bucky relented easily.

"Be nice," Steve whispered lowly, obviously unaware that Peter could hear him. "Please."

Bucky looked up in question, and met Peter's eyes.

Bucky wasn't sure how he felt about Spider-Man. Germany wasn't really anything to base his feelings off of, though he did sometimes laugh a little to himself when he thought of the clever little idiot Stark managed to find himself with over the last few months. Perhaps under different circumstances, he would have actually welcomed the kid. God knows they could always use an extra pair of hands on missions. These weren't different circumstances, though. Until it was proven that the boy wasn't associated with Hydra, he wouldn't be able to trust his intentions, much less become buddy buddy with him.

Which brought him to his dilemma.

After the disaster that was the meeting the night before, Steve was not happy. He started to give Sam a lecture about there being a time and place to talk through issues between teammates, but the lecture got cut short. Apparently Steve wasn't expecting his opinion to be the odd one out. When Steve decided that arguing with his two best friends would get him nowhere, he disappeared into his room, door locked firmly behind him.

After an hour or so, Bucky tried to get him to come out and talk, but Steve needed space. Bucky didn't understand why Steve was so mad, honestly. Sam was right. Tony knew that Bucky wasn't in control when he killed Tony's parents, yet he still turned on him and Steve. Sure, the circumstances of the revelation weren't great, but for someone who claimed to be a hero, he did exactly what Zemo planned. Sam was just pointing out that Tony maybe wasn't the most qualified person to be making emotional decisions.

Bucky didn't really care if Tony liked him or not. Would it be easier if Tony forgave him? Absolutely. Would Bucky be able to put everything behind him? Sure. But it wasn't fair to be judged for something he couldn't control and he wasn't going to let someone make him feel guilty for what happened during that time of his life.

What Bucky did care about, though, was Steve. His troublesome, stubborn, pig-headed best friend Steve, the only person in the world that made him forget that he didn't belong here. He couldn't take it when he was actually mad at him. Yeah, they argued, and sometimes Bucky would pester him to get on his nerves, but Steve did the same to him. Last night was neither of those. After Steve found out Bucky was obviously siding with Sam, Steve wouldn't even look at him. Part of that felt like a small victory, because Bucky knew what his avoidance meant. Bucky was a weakness, albeit a small one, and he knew once Steve got one look at who he was angry with, it would falter.

Despite the small amount of security he found in Steve's forgiving nature, Bucky didn't enjoy being on Steve's bad side. It was unsettling to say the least to wake up unsure if Steve was even going to train with him this morning. Luckily enough, though, his worries were unfounded. It seemed that whether Steve was angry or not, he was a creature of routine.

After they managed to beat on each other a bit, it seemed like they were back on good terms. Then they had to run into the kid. Bucky's lip curled a bit, but not wanting to push himself back out of Steve's good graces, he gave him a curt nod.

Peter wasn't sure how he was supposed to take Steve's overheard order to 'be nice.' Did he say that because the Winter Soldier was typically rude, or was it just toward him? Bucky hadn't seemed particularly hostile the day before, but wasn't exactly sunshine and daisies either. Peter didn't get to dwell on his deliberation long. Before he could properly prepare himself, the pair of friends stepped into the light of the kitchen. His eyes went wide and he felt heat flare in his stomach.

Peter shouldn't have said Steve was hot to Ned last night. It was wrong and gross and he was definitely being punished for being attracted to an obviously cis dude, he just knew it. He averted his eyes back to Mr. Stark's already thoroughly stirred coffee to hide his blush, but the image of Steve was still burning in his mind.

It was obvious that they had been training by the flush of their skin and the dewy sweat that covered both of their bodies. Steve's tight grey under armor shirt clung to him, accentuating every line of muscle in his chest and stomach, curving around his biceps deliciously. His disheveled hair was pointing every which way, giving him a cute boyish look despite being a literal fortress of muscle. Even covered in track pants, Peter could see his legs were enormous, the muscles shifting beneath the cool material as he walked. He couldn't imagine how good his ass would look in those pants-

"Morning, Peter," The Cap said, cheerfully. Peter had to fight back the sudden thrill he felt at hearing his name fall from the Cap's lips.

"G-good morning," Peter muttered, turning and opening one of the cabinets to pull out the fancy powdered creamer. "Do you guys want some coffee?"

Bucky sat at the bar on the far side away from Peter, his long hair in a messy bun looking similarly beautifully worn like Steve. Bucky noticed the kid's blush but didn't comment. If he called out every person that ever got shy in front of Steve, he would never be able to shut up. "No, thank you."

Steve followed just a step behind Bucky, but instead of sitting when he got to the bar, he passed by him, moving around him with a light grip of his hands on Bucky's waist, and made his way to the giant fridge. Bucky didn't seem to notice, his hands already busy scrolling through his phone. Peter wasn't sure not noticing was possible, though. Even as oblivious as Peter was, he noticed it. More than noticed it. His eyes seemed to zero in on it. The thought of them together was strangely fitting. Maybe all of those Avenger fanfiction sites were right...

"I'm fine, too thanks. I'm about to make some breakfast for me and Bucky, though, if you want to join."

Peter looked at the two now-finished and filled coffee thermoses, then back at Steve. As much as he wanted to get to know him, and Bucky too really, he wasn't really sure if the offer was genuine. Peter knew that the Captain was known for being the token good guy, but if the way Bucky was looking at him was any indication of how Steve really felt, they didn't want their time together intruded upon. This was technically their house. It was where they lived. Peter was someone from the outside intruding on their breakfast. On the other hand, Mr. Stark invited him to the lab. He honestly seemed like he would be happy to have him, in a weird way. Peter shook his head at Steve. He knew where he would be much more comfortable.

"Actually, I was just getting coffee for me and Mr. Stark. I appreciate the offer, though, really," Peter said.

"Tony already have you making coffee runs?" Bucky joked. "What an ass. We can beat him up for you if you want."

Steve put the carton of eggs and a bag of cheese on the counter next to a huge mixing bowl, a small smile on his lips. "Sorry, Peter, but there will be no beating up Tony. I could probably talk to him for you, though, if you want."

"N-no. It's okay. He's not making me do anything. JARVIS just mentioned Mr. Stark didn't sleep much last night. Figured I'd grab us both some coffee before I headed up to the lab," Peter explained.

Steve's smile faltered a little, feeling a twinge of guilt before he realized that Peter wasn't saying the words accusingly. Peter didn't really seem the type to ever make someone feel guilty on purpose. Besides, he wasn't even there when Sam brought up Siberia. Unless Tony told Peter, he couldn't have known, and as much as Tony seemed to like the kid he doubted they sat around and talked about their feelings. This was still Stark they were talking about. Whether Peter was trying to make him feel bad or not, though, the effect of hearing it was the same.

"Okay, we will see you around then," Bucky said, smiling but dismissive. Steve frowned in disapproval, but Bucky didn't notice.

Peter nodded and forced a small smile of his own, grabbing the thermoses and his phone.

"Sure thing. Enjoy your breakfast," Peter called behind him.

****

The kid was awesome.

Not only did he bring Tony his coffee, he didn't touch things. Why did everyone he brought up there think it was okay to just grab everything? Peter didn't grab things, didn't even try to. It was because Peter was smart. He knew how annoying and delicate these things can be. Sure, most of what Tony built was bullet proof, but some of the inner machinations weren't so durable.

Peter did ask a lot of questions, though. Normally Tony probably would have minded, but no, actually, that's not right. He didn't mind questions so much as he hated answering questions people didn't really care to know the answer to. Peter's interest always seemed genuine. The way his eyes would light up, the small twitches in his countenance as he thought, and even the little notes he'd jot down on his hand every now and then made Tony feel like for once, somebody was actually listening to what he had to say.

Eventually though, as much as he liked seeing the bright starstruck look on Peter's face, Tony did have real work to do. Time for responsibility came too soon, but he was comforted by the thought that the kid could come by whenever he wanted. If he wanted.

"I know you said you have a lot of ideas cooked up in that noggin of yours yesterday, so why don't you get started on one right now while I get some maintenance stuff out of the way?"

"You don't mind?" Peter asked, perking up.

"Nope. You're welcome to use anything in here, and if there's anything we don't have just ask JARVIS to order it. Depending on what it is, it could take a day or two to get here but you can always work on it then."

"Alright. Thanks, Mr. Stark."

"Yep. I'll come check on you in a bit."

With that, Tony walked over to his work station and got started.

Peter definitely made the right choice in morning partners. Tony Stark was even cooler than Peter ever imagined. Jay, a friend of Flash's always used to say that Mr. Stark probably only actually paid for the inventions and technology that Stark Industries provided. He didn't believe that one man could have that much knowledge and deep understanding over that broad of a spectrum of devices. He was wrong though.

Tony could answer any question Peter threw at him in amazing detail. He even actually threw in a question or two he knew the answer to, and Mr. Stark explained both more succinctly than Peter could have ever dreamed, and in ways that Peter had never thought about.

Then Tony freaking Stark let him free in his lab. He took the first 10 minutes of so of freedom to look around and familiarize himself with the different work stations. There was a lot more in there than he expected, which was a little hard to believe.

Peter pulled out a drawer beside one of the tables, taking a mental inventory of all of the tools at his disposal. Having equipment outside of a few screwdrivers and whatever wood shop happened to have on hand was not something Peter was going to take for granted. He pulled out his Iron Man notebook, hurriedly opening it up and folding the front around to hide its cover.

He sipped on his coffee as he flipped through the pages, trying to decide which piece of equipment he would most likely be able to build before lunch. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to stay there, but if he was leaving today, after lunch seemed a safe enough bet. He looked down at his phone. 9: 43 AM. That narrowed down his options a lot. He already worked on his web shooters the day before, but he could probably work on the upgrade that Mr. Stark had suggested. He could probably do those at the school, though, or maybe back at the apartment. He still had a few weeks before the landlord-

Nope. Not thinking about that right now.

He flipped a few more pages, then stopped, skimming back until he found the page that caught his eye.

After a solid minute of internal debate, he spread the notebook out on the table so he could see the adjacent pages easily, then walked over to the tech station at the back to start gathering materials. 30 minutes later, he was knee deep in his work, trying to sketch out the designs and measurements for his project on a sheet of metal so it could be put into the laser cutter.

Peter was so entranced in his work, he didn't notice Tony had moved from his desk at all until he heard the click of the door closing across the room. He jerked his head up to find a spot covered Mr. Stark holding a small basket of assorted goodies, another disgustingly green smoothie in his other hand.

"What did you decide on, kid? Anything exciting?"

He held out a strange looking muffin, various shades of brown with crumbles of something covering the top.

"Thanks," Peter grinned, exchanging the muffin for his notebook. "Just something I came up with in class one day. Nothing too special."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Mr. Stark sat his drink down and hopped up on the table with a dramatic groan. Peter took a big bite of his mystery flavored muffin and practically melted in his seat at the sweet cinnamon goodness that blessed the tastebuds in his mouth. Peter couldn't help thinking how much MJ would probably love it. She had a weird obsession with cinnamon flavored pastries. Peter was sure she would literally kill a man for snickerdoodles. He made a mental note to ask Mr. Stark where he bought them, despite not really having the money to buy them.

As he ate, he leaned up against the work bench on the wall opposite of Mr. Stark, trying not to be obvious as he watched Mr. Stark's face.

Tony's eyes scanned over the page for a minute, and Peter slowly felt his enthusiasm dampen. Tony's face seemed to get darker the more he read. After what seemed like hours, he dropped the notebook to his side, raising his eyebrows at Peter skeptically.

"Let me get this straight. You are building a device that can record and store information from a scene in play-by-play shots?"

Peter nodded his head. "Yeah, exactly. With the storage capacity that one of the SI chips can hold, the device should be able to hold up to 1500 images or 45 minutes of video."

Tony stared at him blankly.

"You do realize cameras are already a thing, right?" Tony said slowly, as if talking to a small child. He pulled his glasses down over his nose, peering at Peter like a displeased librarian. "They even have them in phones now. It's amazing. If you want I can teach you how to use it."

Peter frowned at Mr. Stark's jabbing. He pulled the notebook from Mr. Stark's hand, who was now smirking openly. Peter grabbed a pencil off of the desk and circled one of the numbers on the sheet then held it back to Mr. Stark.

"Did you even look at the dimensions? Or the exoskeleton? Those are kind of the most important parts," Peter defended, crossing his arms.

Tony took the book back, giving Peter a withering look before looking at it again.

"One by one by one millimeters," Tony muttered to himself. Okay, yeah. That was slightly more impressive. "It is cool, but it's still already been done."

Peter sighed.

"I'm aware, Mr. Stark. The exoskeleton," Peter repeated, flipping the notebook over and tapping on the page. Tony tilted his head slightly. There was an intricate drawing of a metal spider, with long, thin legs and realistic looking markings. It wasn't a species Tony recognized, but it was stunning. He forced himself to tear his eyes from the drawing to the writing beside it. All of the parts were labeled with possible materials and where he could find parts he needed from everyday objects, along with scribbled of possible modifications.

"I call it the Spidey-Cam. I came up with the idea when I saw a job advertisement a photographer for the Bugle. They don't care about experience, so I figured if I could get a few action shots of Spider-Man, maybe they'd give me the job, you know?"

"You designed this to take selfies? Seriously?" Tony scoffed playfully. "Millennials."

"Okay, boomer," Peter rolled his eyes, quirking a smile. "That was just my initial thought. That thought lead to another then another and by the time I got it all on paper, this was the result. Last night I started thinking that maybe I could even connect the camera to a program similar to JARVIS. Obviously I wouldn't be able to create an AI of your caliber, but maybe if I move the battery storage into the cephalothorax instead of the abdomen, I can store a camera among the eyes and use the storage space freed in the abdomen to put a device that can directly connect to a server in my phone. It would make operating it remotely a heck of a lot easier than using a remote like I had pictured originally. But all of that will have to come later. I was hoping I could started on the exoskeleton today and maybe take a few things so I could get its movements operational during down time at school."

Peter gave Tony a hopeful look, his hands twisting nervously.

Well, that certainly was more interesting. Tony crossed his arms, trying to hide the hope he felt in his chest.

"Pitch it to me," Tony ordered.

"Like-like right now?" Peter asked, nervously.

"No, tomorrow. Of course right now. Tell me what it can do."

"For superheroing?"

Tony nodded his eyes rolling as if to say 'obviously', ignoring the definitely made up word, and waved his hand expectantly.

Peter's brows furrowed in thought. "I don't know. Okay, uhm. Okay, okay. It has some similarities to a drone I suppose. So...I guess if I could stream in real time, it would allow me to scout ahead. You know, like knowing how many people I'll be fighting ahead of time and how many weapons I need to look out for would be pretty useful."

"And?"

Peter frowned at his notebook, still hanging from between Mr. Stark's fingers, accusingly. "Is that not enough?"

"I'm not saying it's unimpressive. I'm saying you're too smart not to use something this brilliant to its full potential. Think. What else can it do?"

Peter felt a rush of pride at the praise, but wasn't sure if it was warranted. He was no Tony Stark, after all. He was just some kid that happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Where Mr. Stark was self-made, Peter's abilities were a matter of happenstance. It could just as easily have been Ned that got bitten that day. Ned was easily better that Peter with computers. The way Mr. Stark was looking at him though, he couldn't just brush him off. He wanted to show him he could be what Mr. Stark thought he was. He looked back down at the notebook in Mr. Stark's hand.

The Spidey-Cam could, in theory, move in all directions. Because it was based off of the natural design of real spiders, it was light weight enough that the spindles on the legs would create an electrostatic force that would allow it to maneuver across almost any surface, but durable enough to be able to take a significant amount of damage for its size. It would be able to take high quality videos and pictures from a decent distance, without being bulky.

"If I added the AI component, the internal GPS could be used for tracking and reconnaissance. It would be small enough to go unnoticed and not having to get physically close to a target could reduce a lot of the risk planting a normal tracker has. I guess the video feed could help dispute any issues with the Accords, kind of like a body cam, but able to catch the full scene as opposed to first person. Attach a small microphone and speaker, you have a moving communication device. That would be helpful in like, I don't know. Hostage situations, maybe."

Tony huffs, shaking his head, and hands the notebook back to Peter. "Perfect."

"Yeah?" Peter asks.

Tony smiles at his goofy grin. "Yeah. You just came up with four additional uses on the spot." Tony smacks him on the back, encouragingly. "Now keep it up. The difference between a good invention and a great invention is versatility. Why have fifty gadgets that each do one thing when you can have one gadget that does fifty things?"

With that, they both went back to their respective projects.

****

Two days later, Mr. Stark called a meeting for all of the Avenger's in the tower, including Pepper, so all of them, minus Tony, were gathered in the lounge. Miss Roman-Natasha, he reminded himself, and Sam were actually sitting near each other, which felt kind of weird for some reason, despite Peter not really having a firm grasp on the team's dynamics yet. He guessed it was probably because it seemed that Natasha kind of sided with Tony, but he could be wrong. Steve and Bucky were sitting on the couch next to Rhodey, whose arm was wrapped around Pepper's shoulder. That left Peter to either sit in the recliner closest to Pepper, whom he'd only really seen on TV, or to sit directly next to Bucky or Natasha. God. This was worse than picking a table freshman year.

Everyone watched him expectantly, and his face flushed. The recliner it is.

Peter wished Mr. Stark would have let him bring the exoskeleton down from the lab so he had some kind of excuse to seem preoccupied, but apparently Mr. Stark had very particular rules about working in the lab. He suspected it was to protect new technological advancements from getting leaked, but when Natasha came to collect him so Mr. Stark could get something from his room, she laughed and explained that it was a rule Pepper made in the early days of her employment. Before, if he didn't have rules for himself, he would leave pieces of machinery everywhere. She only had to step on one circuit board and the rest was history.

Peter could feel everyone stealing curious glances at him through his spider sense, but he wasn't sure what to do or say. He wasn't used to people paying much attention to him in a normal way, so being the point of interest among five superheroes and Mr. Stark's infamously brilliant ex was more than a little intimidating.

Not that he was avoiding everyone on purpose, but he hadn't seen anyone besides Mr. Stark or Natasha since his run in with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes in the kitchen. When they all met before, they went straight to business, talking about what happened and what they could do, and the other morning he, Steve, and Bucky were able to distract themselves in their tasks. Now, there was only him and the uncertainty of what Mr. Stark needed to say. Even the conversations around him seemed shallow and half-hearted, their thoughts obviously elsewhere.

On Peter's part, he felt more worried than anything. He started back at school tomorrow, which made him feel a sense of foreboding about the meeting. The last two days had really been great. He was drowning himself in work, and Mr. Stark was right there beside him, which was more comforting than he'd like to admit. There was something soothing in knowing he wasn't alone, and it was made even more therapeutic by keeping his hands and mind busy. Its like all sense of time slipped away, along with any thoughts outside of tightening this screw, or welding these two pieces. Natasha even had to bring them dinner the night before because they'd missed it without noticing, Peter's desks so messily covered in balled up paper and various tools that he had to pause to clean before he had space to eat.

Peter would give anything to be back in the lab, now. He pressed his lips in a line, puffing out his cheeks, trying to fend off the stifling awkwardness and anxiety.

"Did you sleep okay last night Peter?" Natasha asked. She was holding a notebook in her hands, the cover bound in beaten and worn red leather, the pages frayed and aged yellow.

Peter's head popped up, eyes wide.

"What?" The words replayed in his mind. "Oh, yeah. Good. I slept just-just great. Uhm, the bed is-uh. It's big. Like really big."

He emphasized his point by spreading his arms out dramatically.

"Better be. What's the use in having a billionaire best friend if you have to sleep in twin beds?" Rhodey teased, leaning forward a bit to meet Peter's eye. "You really didn't get that talking thing fixed, did you?"

Peter opened his mouth and-

"No," everyone but Steve replied in unison. Peter grumbled under his breath.

"He's a lot like Tony," Natasha said, giving him a warm smile.

"So I've heard. That web stuff you made is pretty impressive," Rhodey said, then leaned forward, conspiratorially. "So, I heard your mom's a spider?"

Sam barked out a hearty sounding laugh from his spot on the couch, and Bucky reached over Steve to punch him playfully, grins on both of their faces.

"Sure. Absolutely. Chromosomes be damned, my mom's apparently a spider," Peter huffed, trying not to show how surprised he was to see the Winter Solider acting so casual.

"You know, Tony must really like you," Pepper said, a cute, knowing smile on her face. "There are only a handful of people that have ever been granted access to his lab."

"It took him two years to let me in," Rhodey grumbled.

"That's because you touch things," Tony said, walking into the room. He was wearing his glasses again, and Peter could see a soft light reflecting in his eyes. He must have changed out of his lab wear within the last hour, which Peter couldn't help but be disappointed about, because now he was wearing jeans and a band tee. Pepper held up a folder in the air without even turning to look at him and he grabbed it before walking to the front.

"Tony," Steve greeted. "You have something for us?"

"I do, actually," Tony said, brows furrowed, his eyes seeming to purposefully avoid Peter's. "I-This isn't going to be the meeting you thought it was."

Peter watched as three pairs of eyes shot up at Tony in question. It figures. If anyone knew what this meeting was about, it would be Natasha, Miss Potts and Sergeant Rhodes.

"Did something happen?" Pepper asked, obviously talking to Mr. Stark, but glancing at her boyfriend.

Tony suppressed a sigh, trying to muster up the courage that had evaded him the last hour as he hid in his bedroom. Peter could see the hesitation in his stance, making his heard pound erratically.

"Mr. Stark?"

Peter was nervous. The last few days hadn't been great for the kid, and Tony really just wanted to give him good news. He wanted to open up the folder and ask the kid to stay with him. He wanted to let the kid know that he wasn't alone, that he would be there, just like Jarvis and Aunt Peggy had been there for him. He knew he was just the messenger, but his palms were sweating and he could feel guilt burning in his chest like he was the executioner instead. He just barely suppressed a sigh.

"Pete, your apartment was broken into last night. There weren't any witnesses and the cameras were wiped. We can see what we can do, but...I'm sorry, kid. Everything is gone."

Peter tensed even further, but didn't respond. He could feel his nails dragging across his palms as he clenched them into fists, a few layers of skin burrowing under his nails. He could feel the burn of the air on the open wounds but it hardly registered in comparison to all the other things he could feel bubbling to the surface as he stared at the coffee table in front of him. His eyes hardened when he finally met Tony's eyes. "Everything is gone?"

"From what they said, yes."

"My books?"

Tony nodded firmly.

"My clothes?"

Another nod.

Peter forced himself to swallow. Of course. Of fucking course. Why not? Peter Parker lost everything else. Why should he be able to have his own things? He lost his parents, Ben, May. May. Oh god. Peter closed his eyes, willing the churning in his stomach to stop.

"Peter. Are you okay?"

Tony stepped forward, wanting to comfort him in some way, but Peter flinched away from the offending hand as if he’d been burned. He didn't mean to, he just wasn't sure how much more feeling his senses could take before he went crazy. That didn't stop the flash of hurt he saw on Mr. Stark's face.

"I'm sorry," he managed to choke out.

Without another word, Peter stood up and walked out of the room. Tony watched him leave, unconcerned by the questions that were left unanswered by the others in the room. All he could focus on was not following the kid, wrapping him in bubble wrap and sticking him in a padded room until all of this stuff was figured out. The expression on the kid's face.. It was unfortunately one he knew well. It was the one that he saw for months after he got back from Afghanistan, and it scared him.

Tony crossed his arms, the folder still in his hands. If he couldn't help Peter in that way, he could help him with this, at least. Straightening his back, he turned back to the others.

“So, I need someone to go see if there's anything relevant still at the kid's place. Hair, blood, a big glowing sign, something."

"I can go," Natasha offered instantly. "Sam. you with me?"

Sam nodded. "Sure. I can be ready in maybe half an hour. I just have to make a call and suit up."

"No, Natasha, I need you here. Peter likes you."

"I know, but I can find things the others probably can't," Natasha argued.

"I understand that, but the others are more than capable of doing a basic sweep," Tony shot back.

"Tony-"

"Please, Nat," Tony said, his eyes locked on hers. He watches as confusion, then a rare softness takes over her features. Tony was scared. He didn't know how to handle all of this. For right now, he didn't need Black Widow. He needed Nat.

"Okay. I'll stay. We still need to figure out who's going. Nobody needs to go anywhere alone."

Pepper squeezed Rhodey's arm gently, seemingly pulling him from his own head.

"Uhm, right. Yeah. If Sam still wants to go, we can-" Rhodey says.

"No. Buck and I can do it. You and Pepper go on your date," Steve interjected, standing from the couch. "Sam has an appointment tonight that shouldn't be cancelled. We can handle everything."

"You're sure?" Tony asked.

Steve looked to Bucky, and held his hand out for him to grab.

Bucky smirked. It wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his Sunday night, but if it meant getting closer to Hydra he would suck it up. He clasped his hand in Steve's and Steve pulled him to his feet.

"The rest of these guys are useless. Wouldn't want them to miss something," Bucky agreed, earning him a half-hearted glare from the others.

"Alright, go suit up. I'll get your coms ready and meet you with them at the car. The magnetic element still intact on the shield?"

"Yeah, Whatever you did to it the last time it cracked seems to have solved the problem. Thanks for that," Steve said, feeling a little bad he hadn't said it before.

Tony just nodded. "Okay. Good. What about you Barnes, need any quick fixes?"

"Can't say I do, Stark."

"Even better," Tony said, giving him an awkward smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have coms to retrieve and a teenager to talk to."

Bucky accepted the dismissal, but Steve paused, putting a firm hand on Tony's shoulder as he passed. "Good luck. With the kid."

Tony question forced a smile. "Thanks. Let me know if you find something."

*****

Scaling down Stark Tower was not something Peter ever expected to do. Hell, he never really expected to be invited into the tower at all.

Peter couldn't help wonder what Mr. Stark would think when he realized he was gone.

In the days Peter spent with Mr. Stark, he learned that among all the things JARVIS was in charge of, the most specific programs were based around security. Peter also picked up that although JARVIS was programmed not to share certain information with anyone but Mr. Stark, asking questions in itself was not in violation of security measures. JARVIS did not seem pleased that Peter discovered this little loophole. Because of his brilliant use of questioning, he found out that if he were to "hypothetically" open his own window, or any window at that, JARVIS would be required to alert Mr. Stark automatically. So instead, he donned his suit and managed to convince a very reluctant JARVIS to lead him to one of the conference rooms with a balcony. Since no security protocols were breached, he was able to leave without interference.

He couldn't imagine Mr. Stark would be pleased that he left. Less so that he used his AI to figure out how to.

It took him almost a half hour, even with swinging a lot of the way, to get to Queens. The air was cold, whipping over his thin suit and chilling him to the bone, even with the burn from the familiar flex and stretch of his muscles. It was easy to get lost in his adrenaline as he swung, focusing of the aim and snap of the web, letting muscle memory take over his thoughts.

That feeling melted away and his heart turned to lead when he began to see familiar streets. What used to make him feel excitement and anticipation now felt like a bad omen.

Mr. Stark said there was nothing left, but Peter couldn't help but hope there was something. He wanted Mr. Stark to be wrong. He wanted May to be back. He wanted to have a movie night, complete with a horrible movie May picked out and fighting over who holds the popcorn bowl and trading a bag of M&Ms back and forth.

But what if Mr. Stark wasn't wrong?

The thought that his home of the last 9 years being stripped of anything that made it theirs was unbearable.

He stopped at his usual changing spot, an alley not too far from Mr. Delmar's store, and jogged over to the far side of a dumpster, the action warming him and pumping blood back into his legs. Peter tried not to think of how much had changed since he was last in this spot as he crouched, pulling off his backpack and unzipping it. He looked around, quickly making sure the alley was clear from prying eyes before pulling off his mask and layering his civvies over his suit.

The streets were still scattered with people, and Peter kept finding himself looking up at them as he walked, a strange feeling of cognitive dissonance overtaking him. None of this seemed real.

There were people still dressed in professionally tailored suits from work. Others were talking on their phones to their friends or loved ones about how their day was or what their plans were for the night. Kids were enjoying the last few hours of their weekend, eating food from street vendors or playing on the streets, wrapped in warm clothes. Some people were just enjoying the cool air as they walked home, most either smiling or laughing. All of these people were out just living their lives while Peter felt his slowly crumbling down.

All too quickly, Peter was stepping inside the apartment. Unsurprisingly, it no longer felt like home. It felt like slipping into an ice bath. All of the air was sucked from his lungs and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't catch it back. His vision was blurred through his stinging eyes, and he stepped tentatively further.

Saying everything was gone felt like a gross understatement. Nothing but the bare bones of the apartment remained. The furniture, the TV, the ugly rug, things that were here before they even moved in were gone.

Peter could feel the pained astonishment plastered on his face. How could this even happen? How did nobody see someone carry a fucking sofa away from a second story apartment?

His whole body shook as he looked around, and a burning sob wracked through him. Every breath was shallow and tore through him in croaking heaves.

Peter pushed himself to keep moving, and gently opened May's door. His stomach dropped. Just another empty room. There were no scrubs littering the back of her desk chair, no date night perfume bottles and makeup sitting untouched on the vanity. No picture of May and Ben on their wedding day or Peter and Ben at his sixth grade science fair on the bedside table. They didn't even leave those hideous souvenir magnets May insisted on buying when they went out of town. Just bare walls and scuffed floor boards.

Peter's phone was ringing, but he couldn't care less. He pressed his back against the wall, sliding until he was sitting down, his knees pressed tightly against his chest.

They were never going to find May.

A part of him believed she was alive. He would like to think he would feel it, with his Spider Sense maybe, if someone he loved was really gone. Maybe that's why he was so stuck in denial about the whole thing. He would know if she was dead. Wouldn't he?

Peter hiccuped.

They wouldn't find her.

If they could manage this-if they could completely erase his entire life without a single person seeing it, they would never let him find her. Not unless they wanted him to.

He should have grabbed something before he went with Mr. Stark. He should have taken something of hers, something that he could remember her by. He always knew this was a possibility.

God, does he even have pictures of May on his phone? He knew for sure he didn't have any of Ben or his parents. Why would he take pictures of things he already had physical copies of? He didn't have the physical copies now though. His photo albums were gone, and all of the pictures of his family were gone with them. Every last piece of the family he lost-just gone.

Peter knocked his head backward into the wall angrily. How could he have not taken pictures with May?

His phone was ringing again.

Tears poured over his hot cheeks and his chest heaved. Full-blown panic was washing over him now. It was never supposed to be like this. His identity was a secret. The only person who should've gotten hurt was him. He was hurt though, wasn't he? Everyone always left, and it seemed like he was the one who had to deal with the aftermath.

Peter couldn't make himself move when he heard the front door open. He fully expected JARVIS to tell Mr. Stark about his absence, but he was hoping he would have a bit more time. No matter what they say or think, Peter had to see it for himself. He wouldn't have believed it otherwise.

He didn't want Mr. Stark to see him this way. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and tried to control his breathing. He was a superhero. He needed to get it together. He couldn't just keep breaking down. Mr. Stark didn't deserve to have some weepy kid crying all over him all the time.

He took a shaky breath. If May was alive, they would find her. And if-

Peter's thought was cut off by May's door slamming open. Peter jumped in surprise, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. Three men armed with guns charged inside, weapons trained on him. Peter instinctively shot out a web to the far side of the room, pulling it tight, then flung himself forward. He shot from the floor, taking two men out with his feet before he found himself perched on the opposite wall.

Peter let out a nervous laugh at the sight of the two limp bodies across the floor, still somehow surprised at how freaking awesome instincts were.

Peter’s eyes tried to take in as much informations as he could. The men were in black tactical suits and what looked like gas masks, looking a bit more sinister than his typical purse napper. The guns didn't look familiar either, but that didn't really mean much. Peter never had much of a use for guns.

The two on the ground groaned quietly and the remaining guy turned, training his gun on Peter.

"I'm guessing you're the assholes with the invisible moving van?" Peter croaked, his voice like sandpaper against his throat.

The man pulled the trigger, but Peter dodged it easily, a dart of some sort lodging itself into the wall near his head.

"You aren't big on chit chat. Fine. I get it. That's all you had to say."

The man shot four more times before Peter found an opening. He aimed his web shooter at the man's tactical mask and pulled him forward as hard as he could. The man shot forward, his gun skidding across the floor, and Peter threw himself off the wall, slamming his fist into the side of the guy's head. There was a resounding crack, and the man fell to the floor in a lump, but Peter didn't have time to worry about whether he pulled his punch or not. There were more footsteps coming from the living room.

"Three down," a mechanical tinged voice called from the other room. "Move in."

Peter rushed over and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him, and hurried to May's window. One of the guys from before groaned a bit louder this time, and started pushing himself up. He shot a web at both of his hands.

"Stay down, dude. I do not have the time to deal with stragglers," he said, pointing at him angrily.

Peter could hear the banging on the door at his back.

"Come on, come on," He muttered as he tugged on the window. As Parker luck would have it, it was stuck. He looked at it, running his fingers along the edges of the frame, shaking and confused. Then he felt it. The window was nailed shut. He growled softly to himself. Of fucking course. His hands gripped the edge and jutted it upward, splitting the wood of the pane as it opened.

"Guess we won't be getting our deposit back," he mused to himself.

Peter heard the door crash behind him and he extended his arm to shoot out a web, but it was too late. Peter gasped in pain, the thick needle of a dart tearing through the skin at the back of his calf. His body jerked forward to get his weight off of his leg and he lost his shot. The men moved forward, the front runner keeping his gun ready while the others readied themselves for combat.

"Grab him," the man with the gun ordered.

Four men lunged at once, but Peter managed to knock one of them out with a quick kick before he could even get close. After receiving a nice punch across his face from guy number two, he caught the the his hand, twisting it with a sickening snap. He took a blow to the stomach by the one on the left, but it left him room to leap clumsily over the remaining two, despite the protest from his increasing tingly limbs. He turned, shooting webs at the ones laying on the floor to keep them down.

There was a cry of pain from the other room, but it was drowned out as two more shots rang out. Peter dodged them, barely, and all but fell forward, ripping the door open.

"Duck," a voice commanded.

Peter rolled forward, staying low, and something whirred over his head, colliding with the two men still on his tail with a a sound somewhere between a crunch and a thunk. The men cried out in pain and fell to the floor.

Steve's shield bounded back, and he caught it deftly.

"Wow," Peter said, his eyes wide. "I'll never get used to that."

Bucky snorted humorlessly.

"Yeah, you will. Kid, I thought you were supposed to be smart," Bucky snapped, as he choked out the man beneath him, all while twisting the bad guy's arm behind his back at what looked like a very painful angle.

"Yeah. Me too," Peter answered, nodding. Stars instantly started dotting his vision. Okay, so no to nodding. He felt himself swaying slightly, his limbs starting to feel almost numb with the tingling sensation under his skin.

"Leaving the tower, very stupid."

"Yeah. Caught that," Peter snapped.

The last man shot at Steve three times, each dart bouncing unimpressively off of the shield, then he reared back, knocking the dude out with one hard strike on the head.

Steve raised a brow at the two of them. "Care to give me a hand, or are you too busy arguing?"

Peter huffed out a laugh. "Pretty sure you got them all, Cap. Nice throw, by the way."

"Did a pretty good job yourself," Steve replied, grinning.

"Yeah, yeah. We're all pretty. Somebody call Stark so we can haul these sorry asses out the door," Bucky said, dragging the man he incapacitated to the pile of other men they had taken out.

"What is Mr. Stark going to do with them?"

It was a double-edged sword, that question. If he got the answer that he wanted, he would probably never find May again. If he got the answer he dreaded, there was a possibility they could learn more about Hydra, and what they want with Peter.

Bucky seemed to know this, somehow. "I don't think you really want that question answered."

Peter's accepted that despite the nagging voice telling him to make Bucky elaborate.

“I’ll call Stark. Buck you want to grab those guys?” The Captain pointed to May’s room.

Bucky nodded, and without another word, he started a new body pile. Peter could feel his mind slipping, feeling a weird smile taking over his face as the domesticity of cleaning bodies together.

Peter walked around, the limp he may or may not have had before gone with the tingling numbness up his leg, webbing people down to ensure they wouldn’t be moving until someone could come get them. Before he knew what was happening, his legs were wobbling, and he rocked backward, falling with a surprising amount of grace onto his back.

He barked out a laugh, his arms stretching out above his head. He groaned in pleasure as his skin brushed against the tile. "The floooor. Yes. It's so cold."

The tingling he felt before was getting worse. Didn't sedatives normally weaken with time? He would have to look into that.

"Stupid dart," he muttered, feeling at the puncture in the meat of his calf as he folded his legs up.

"You okay, kid?" Steve asked, peeking over the bar. At seeing Peter a few feet away from a bound Hydra Agent, he raised a brow.

"Aw, I'm fine. The stupid jerks just shot me," Peter said, waving him off. Peter's words were slightly slurred, making Steve smile softly.

Steve walked around and motioned to Peter. "Where at?"

Peter blinked lazily. "Uhm-" he pointed to his right calf.

Steve crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet, and lifted his Peter’s leg gently with one hand and resting his footon top of his knee. His fingers moved carefully down his calf, and he bent over the assess the damage. He hissed in sympathy. "This is pretty deep. From the look of it, Hydra introduced you to their super soldier darts. I’m don’t know how you’re still standing.”

"Not so bad. Must not have figured in my healing factor. Head just feels all funny and fuzzy and weird," Peter said.

“That must be some hell of a healing factor,” Steve mused, carefully pulling the fabric away from the wound.

“Steve?” Bucky called out.

“In here,” he answered. “You have your med stuff?”

“For sure,” Peter answered, continuing his and Steve’s conversation. He didn’t seem to notice Bucky had spoken at he. He pursed his lips and stared up at the ceiling accusingly. “Those guys suck. Who shoots people with oversized syringes?"

"Yeah, I'm not a fan of the tranq darts myself."

"Mm. You make a habit of getting shot, cappy-cap?" Peter asked, dopily.

Bucky snorted, walking up behind the two, handing Steve a long piece of fabric and a small jar of off-white lookin paste. "Yeah, cappy-cap? Enjoy life in the cross hairs?"

Steve ignored him, but grabbed the supplies, his head tilting side to side as if considering the question as he barked out a laugh. "I try not to."

Steve opened the jar, putting a decent amount on his finger, then carefully applied it to Peter's leg. The hole was deeper and thicker than he thought. Maybe they didn’t use the Solider formula.

"'S good," Peter grinned, pushing himself into a sitting position. Everything still felt off, but he was glad that Steve was helping with his wound. With his enhanced healing it should only take an hour or so to stitch up, if he judged by similar injuries in the past. Steve shook his head in amusement and wrapped the fabric around Peter's calf a few times, then tied it off tightly.

"Sure is. How about we get you up and back to the tower to get patched up, huh? Stark is probably going crazy right now, if he isn't on his way already."

"Think he's mad?" Peter asked.

"Mad probably don't cover it," Bucky said, smirking. "He was on our asses for sure."

The events of the last few days flashed in his mind. He really hopes he didn't give up all of that to go get shot in an empty apartment.

"Tony isn't going to be mad," Steve argued. “It’ll be fine.”

Bucky and Peter both raised a brow at him.

"Or at least he won't be fully mad. He was just worried about you," Steve explained, looking over his shoulder at the pile of weapons on the far side of the room. “We probably need to grab one of the dart guns. Maybe Stark or Banner can find a way to counteract the tranquilizers if we bring them a sample.”

Bucky's brows furrowed, and he stepped closer to Peter. He noticed about half way through Steve's words that Peter was no longer listening. His face was hardened in concentration, and his head was quirked to the side, his ear catching a faint, constant noise emanating from somewhere in the room.

"What is it, kid?"

Peter pulled away from Steve, and half-stumbled to his feet in one quick movement.

"Don't-" Steve started to protest.

"Shh. Do you hear that?" He asked, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.

Bucky tensed further. "Hear what?"

Peter pulled himself to his feet, Steve looking between the two men warily, and moved closer to the sound. Peter closed his eyes, trying to focus all of his senses, reaching out with his spider sense. There.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Shit. His eyes widened.

There's a bomb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter DID NOT want to exist. The pacing sucked, I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to keep or cut, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to hold off on certain things, it was a disaster. I hope it was easier and more pleasant to read than it was to write. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. If you liked this chapter, we are now friends forever! No takesie backsies! 
> 
> I love to hear from you guys! Blow up my comments! (Ha. Blow up.)


	5. The Chapter Everyone Just Yells “Peter” with Varying Levels of Concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tick, tick, boom!  
> Token creep guy enters.  
> SpiderParents!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that didn’t want to exist. Unedited!  
> Sorry for taking so long! Enjoy!
> 
> Oh my god. I had a ton of technical difficulties posting this, and I went to bed right after I THOUGHT I fixed it, so I’m sorry about the madness. I ended up having to go back through and try to remember all the details that I added last minute because I am dumb and accidentally deleted the draft that had all of my updated stuff. So if you’ve already read I’m so sorry😭 there shouldn’t be too many big things added until the end, so if you read the last section again you should catch everything important. I’m sorry again for the mishap, next time I will just wait to post until I am clear headed if I don’t finish a chapter until the ungodly hours of morn! 
> 
> Big thank you to whoever warned me about the issue! I deleted the incorrect chapter that had your comment attached and now I can’t thank you properly😭😭😭

At the realization that there was a bomb somewhere in the room, adrenaline washed over him, pulling Peter from the haze the tranquilizer. This was not good. There were at least what, like, 12 people webbed up throughout the apartment? Not to mention Sergeant Barnes and the Captain. Would it take out the whole building? How was he supposed to get them all out? 

"Peter?”

What should he do? Should he even try to find the bomb? Should he question the Hydra agents, try to figure out if they knew where it was? Should he just pull the alarm and hope that everyone gets out in time?

"Peter, what's going on?"

Peter followed the sound of the beeping, tracing his shaking fingers along the faded wallpaper, pressing his cheek close to the wall, keeping his ear pointed forward to catch the sound. His eyes traced the trajectory for which it seemed to be emanating from and his jaw tensed.

His room. He walked slowly as he could manage with impending doom hanging over his head, making sure he didn't pass it by moving too quickly. He opened the door, pausing in the entryway, and nodded to himself after a moment.

"Okay. Yeah. Definitely louder," he muttered. He walked to the wall where his messy, project covered desk would usually be, pressing his ear directly to the cool drywall.He could hear it, steady as a heartbeat, but it seemed like it was coming from everywhere. Maybe it was echoing? It was so soft though...

He strained his ears as hard as he could, closing his eyes in concentration. He could hear someone's keys jangling a few doors down, then the door swinging open. There was a tv playing some kid's cartoon Peter didn't recognize next door. The ticking of a stove trying to ignite. And the beeping that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Peter pressed his forehead against the wall, his hands flat on either side, his brows furrowed.

"Peter!"

Peter startled, practically leaping when Steve grabbed his shoulder, squeezing tightly. Peter's eyes were so dilated the golden brown was almost completely taken over, the black snuffing out their usual brightness. Peter's overloaded, swimming senses seemed to latch on to that small point of contact, feeling the different amounts of pressure given to his skin by each finger, the warmth building under his touch. It seemed to rein him in a bit, anchoring him back down.

"What is it?" Steve asked more gently this time. The kid's attention was obviously frayed, probably because of the tranq, but he didn't want to yell at him if he didn't have to. "Let us help you."

Peter cursed quietly, his head hanging. His mind was pulled in a dozen different ways. Bomb, bomb, bomb, repeated in his head like a mantra with each beep, and his indecision of how to deal with it was wasting time. Questioning the agents was out, and there was no guarantee he would have enough time to find the bomb. Whatever was going to happen, he couldn't do this on his own.

"We need to pull the fire alarm. It's in the hallway, by the elevator," Peter rasped, finally. Even as the words fell from his mouth, he wondered if it was the right choice, feeling defeated by his indecisiveness. "I-I don't think I can find it."

"Find what?"

Bucky quirked his head in question but Steve's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat.

"You think there's a bomb?" It was a question, but it sounded more like a statement.

"A bomb?!" Bucky demanded.

Peter nodded. "We need to get everyone out. The alarm, once it's pulled, I won't be able to hear-"

Peter shook his head, panic swelling in his chest. This was a mistake. If he couldn't hear, he wouldn't be able to find it. Finding it was the only way to stop it.

And yet...There was no guarantee he had the time to find the bomb. At this very moment there could be but seconds left. No matter what decision had the best possible outcome, his first priority was to make sure everyone was safe. He had to let them pull the alarm to do that, even if that meant losing his chance to stop the bomb before it could go off.

Was Mrs. Morris from 113 home? Could she even hear the alarms? Even if she did, would she make it out in time? What if she was sleeping? What about everyone's things? Were they just supposed to be homeless?

Peter shook his head, growling at his intrusive thoughts. "Just go. I'll keep looking."

Peter heard Bucky mutter something that sounded like 'fucking Hydra' before turning away from them and closing his eyes to narrow his focus again.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was unsettling in a way Peter never experienced before. It was like he was standing on a live wire, not wondering if he would get hurt, but when.

He stopped on the other side of his door, halfway between it and the closet, and pressed himself against the wall again. Was it louder here? God, he couldn't even tell if he was getting closer or further away. If only he could...

He brightened a bit, turning around to grab for something to break a hole in the wall with, frowning in frustration when he remembered there was nothing left in the apartment. Kind of a big thing to just forget, regardless of the situation. He glanced over at the Hydra agents, then to the discarded pile of tranquilizer guns just outside the door and sighed in relief. That could work. He shot a web, pulling the gun to him, and he fumbled it, his fingers slow to curl around it. He flexed his hands, cursing quietly, then turned back to the task at hand. In one quick movement, he slammed the gun into the plaster with all his strength. The blow reverberated up his arms, putting an uncomfortable emphasis the numbing sensation he had been trying to ignore.

The alarms were blaring now, and he could vaguely hear the door of the apartment click closed. He shifted nervously from foot to foot, but ignored it, pulling chunks and slabs of plaster off, powder covering his hands and clothes.

Steve entered first, looking from the complete mess on the floor to the gaping hole in the wall.

"Damn," Bucky commented. "Not much of a decorator is he?"

"Not the time, Buck." Steve snapped over his shoulder, stepping close to Peter, a piece of plaster dropping at his feet. "Hey, come on. It's time to go. We need to get out of here."

"I can find it," he argued through clenched teeth.

"No. You can't," Bucky growled, pulling him backward. Peter jerked his arm back, shooting him a venomous glare before turning back to the wall. Bucky looked to the ceiling for patience, finding none. "Stubborn ass ki-Do you want to blow up? Because you seem to want to blow up."

"Just go grab a dart," Peter ordered, his already drug blurred-vision making it impossible to see through the darkness inside the wall. Maybe if he just had his phone-

"We already have it. We need to leave now," Bucky said, harshly, looking to his best friend. "Let's go, Stevie. We didn't survive Nazi's in Germany just to get blown up in freakin' _Queens_."

Bucky's face was stoic, but Steve could see the genuine concern there. As much as Steve wished there was a way they could prevent the inevitable, Bucky was right. The kid was obviously still out of it, or he wouldn't still be clawing his way through drywall after a bomb they didn't know the location of. They didn't have the time to figure out where it was. They didn't even know how long they had before it went off. They'd already waited long enough.

Steve pulled Peter's arm, but he just jerked it away again.

"I'll find it!" He yelled angrily. Tears sprang to his eyes, and his next words came out sounding broken. "I have to find it."

He knew he wouldn't though. The beeping was gone, drowned in the sea of noises; the men talking at him from behind, the wail of the alarms, nervous voices pooling in the streets below, his own heartbeat. He couldn't stop trying though. He couldn't give up on these people.

Steve and Bucky shared a look. After too many life or death situations together, it was like they could read what the other was thinking without saying a word. They needed to get the kid out, one way or another, even if that meant coming to blows.

"Peter, please. I know this is hard and you don't want to give up, but I will pick you up and drag you out of here if I have to," Steve's voice rang. "We won't leave you."

"You can't find your aunt if your dead," Bucky added.

The noise, the onslaught of emotions, the situation. It was just too much. His heart broke, but he relented.

"Fine!" Peter yelled, turning and throwing his arms up. "Just stop."

Steve looked a little surprised by the outburst, but Bucky just motioned at the door as if to say 'after you.'

Peter ignored him, and stalked over to the window, yanking through this set of nails with ease in one easy tug. Steve and Bucky both moved forward, but stared at Peter, confused, when they looked out the window to find he wasn't expecting them to climb down a fire escape.

"We are super soldiers, but we don't typically enjoy jumping out of buildings," Bucky said, giving Peter a dubious look.

Steve rolled his eyes. "We've jumped from further. Let's get out of here. You first, Peter."

Steve offered a guiding hand, and Peter took half a step forward then froze, his hand clenching tightly at his sides. Time seemed to slow and stretch in front of him, a pearl of nervous sweat dripping from his nose where it trickled from the moisture pronounced curls hanging in his face. A shiver of nervous anticipation shot up his spine, excess energy welling up inside him, just waiting to be released. It was the familiar jolt of electricity, the burning of adrenaline warning him of what was to come. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end like an alarm screaming danger, danger, danger and his eyes widened.

Quicker than he ever thought possible, he shot a web through the window, hitting the building across the street, then attached it to two consecutive webs aimed at Bucky and Steve. He stepped back, pulling it taut, then released, the snap of the web sucking the two men out the window just as the entire building shook, taking the busted frame and broken glass with them, a deafening explosion coming from somewhere above. The walls started to crumble around him and debris was raining down.

The air was instantly filled with a suffocating amount dust and dirt, and Peter only barely managed to dodged a slab of ceiling tile before shooting out another web. It connected with the building, but he was half a second too late. The second bomb went off and the whole ceiling collapsed. A large piece of concrete fell in front of him, and he dodged the brunt of the blow midair, but didn't notice the rebar sticking out of the side. The rusted metal cut into his back, dragging and ripping through his muscle like butter when he flung forward. Peter gasped, almost losing his grip on his web before he made it out the window. He managed to keep hold, but his fall to the ground was graceless and painful.

Peter tucked himself, trying to roll into his inevitable collision with the pavement, but only partially succeeded, tumbling like a tumbleweed, road rash and cold air eating at his vulnerable skin.

When Peter finally came to a stop, he didn't even care about the pain. He just laid there, trying to even his breathing. He let out a relieved sigh, happy to be alive and on stable ground.

It definitely could have been worse.

A loud horn sounded, and flashing lights danced through his closed eyelids. Peter silently hoped that everyone made it out, then winced when he realized that he already knew not everyone survived. Just because they were Hydra, didn't mean they deserved to die, especially not like that, buried under hundreds of pounds of rubble.

"Peter!"

Steve and Bucky were jogging toward him, matching looks of relief on their faces to see the annoying spider kid. Peter glanced up at the dark expanse of sky above him, and knocked his head against the pavement. What he wouldn't do to get to just lay there for a while. He didn't even mind the jagged pavement, so long as it was cool against his flushed skin.

He assured himself he could take a good nap later, in an actual bed and forced himself to his feet, stumbling, trying to push through the pain shooting down his back.

"I'm okay. I'm good," he chanted, holding up a placating hand at Steve. "I'm fine."

The kid was not fine. His grey shirt was covered in blood and white powder, a bruise from the fight still forming on his face. There were random cuts in his clothes, and one pant leg was still rolled up, exposing the makeshift tourniquet and Spider-Man suit underneath. There was a crowd of people, probably the evacuated tenants, behind them, but fortunately they were too busy watching the apartment fall apart in front of them to notice the kid laying in on the edge of the road.

Steve wasn't even sure what happened, everything just fell apart so fast. One second he was standing by the window, the next his back was slammed against a wall, the clang of his shield echoing and vibrating throughout his body. His head was pounding from where it snapped backward and cracked against one of the bricks, red tainting his blonde hair. Bucky seemed as confused as he was when they managed to realize they were outside the building, him cradling his elbow as he staggered to his feet.

Then the explosion.

Those seconds after the explosion were horrifying, the dread in the air between he and Bucky almost tangible.

Steve never thought he would feel relieved to see a second bomb go off, but watching Peter swing out the window was enough to knock the breath back into his lungs.

Peter was limping, and Steve and Bucky automatically flanked him, wrapping supportive arms around him. Peter hissed under their touch, lunging forward out of their arms, landing on all fours in front of them.

"Damn it, kid," Bucky winced.

Peter's shirt was almost split in half, and drenched in red. His skin was peeled open, mangled masses of muscle visible as they shifted on either side of the bloodied gash.

"'M fine. Healing factor," he forced through gritted teeth.

Steve ran a hand over his face, smearing the dirt down his cheeks, his chest aching at the sight of the kid torn apart like this. Was this what his mother felt all those times he came home black eyed and bloody knuckled?

Steve wanted to lecture him. He wanted to yell at him, tell him how reckless he was for getting them out first. He wanted to tell him that they would have been fine, and he was a kid and he needed to look out for himself. He couldn't though. There was that split second before everything blew to hell, when Peter was about to listen and get out, but he stopped. In that moment, Peter was absolutely wrecked, more terrified than Steve had ever seen someone, and the memory made any lecture die in his throat. Peter thought they were going to die.

Seeing Peter hurt like this at the hands of Hydra made anger pulse through him. He looked over at all of the now homeless people lining the streets, some covering there mouths in disbelief, others crying quietly. If this proved anything it was that Hydra would take anything from anyone, their distorted conscience still intact all the while.

Steve crouched down and turned Peter's face toward him with gentle fingers under his jaw until all he could see was big brown eyes looking into his.

"I'm going to pick you up, okay?" Steve's voice was even and calming, especially compared to the events of the day. Peter could feel his eyes starting to sting, so he looked away, but nodded. Steve eased him into a sitting position, then debated the best way to carry him.

"Bridal will hurt his back," Bucky said, as if reading his mind. Steve nodded, and leaned closer to peter.

"I'm going to carry you chest to chest. I would put you on my back, but I'm not sure you could-well. It would take more effort on your part. Is that okay?" Steve asked, searching his face for any sign of hesitation.

Peter really hated himself, probably more than he ever had just then. The concern in Steve's voice, the way he was going out of his way to help him, the discomfort Steve was obviously feeling. Peter was the cause of all of it. All because he had to play the hero.

Peter just forced himself to nod, his head starting to feel heavy. He wasn't sure if it was from an adrenaline crash, blood loss, or hell it could even be a lingering effect from the tranq dart, but whatever it was was making it near impossible to focus.

Steve and Bucky helped him to his feet, then Steve gingerly picked him up, careful not to jostle him too much or touch the gash in his back. He looped one forearm underneath Peter's legs, supporting his weight by allowing Peter to basically sit on his arm, while the other arm wrapped around Peter's upper back, pinning him close to Steve's chest to keep him from moving too much. The positioning probably wouldn't be possible to achieve for normal people, but to Steve, Peter's weight equated that of a small child.

Fuzzy, insecure thoughts faded in and out of Peter's consciousness, wondering if he was too heavy or thinking how disgusting he was, covered head to toe in grime and filth and blood, but they were more like shadows of thoughts, unable to be grasped completely and fading as soon as light shown on them.

He winced as he slowly lifted his arms to wrap them around the Captain's neck. He shifted them what felt like a dozen times, trying to find a position that didn't pull his wound open. Steve waited patiently, a concerned pinch in his brow. Peter wasn't sure if he imagined it or not, but it almost seemed like the Cap was relieved when Peter finally nuzzled his face between the crook of his elbow and the Captain's neck.

"You okay?" Steve murmured against his hair. Peter nodded, feeling more safe and secure than he had in a week, and Steve could feel his warm breath starting to come out more evenly spaced against his neck, his body practically sagging against Steve's.

"Mhm. Thanks."

Steve smiled softly, and Bucky frowned, but didn't comment.

Before they could even make it to the end of the street, Peter passed out.

****

Peter didn't make it to his math test on Monday, nor did he get to go back to school on Tuesday despite being almost fully healed. Mr. Stark insisted that taking Tuesday to finish healing and allowing his clothes that Natasha ordered for him to come in would make everyone feel better.

As much as he dreaded adding a week's worth of homework on top of all the stress he was already dealing with, he couldn't bring himself to take Mr. Stark up on his offer to talk the school into giving him a few extra days off. They could only allow so much time for a kidnapped aunt and an exploded apartment, after all. So Tuesday night, Peter told Natasha he was ready to go back and after getting cleared by Dr. Cho via a late night Skype session, Natasha agreed. Peter was happy to let Nat Break that news to Mr. Stark. 

It felt weird, getting ready for school at Stark Tower, in that it seemed too normal. Everything over the past few days was too fantastical from meeting his childish hero and getting to spend time with him doing what they both loved, to healing from a literal bomb he survived with two of the most well-known figures in history. Trying to gather up his workbooks seemed bizarre in comparison. 

Much to Peter's relief, Natasha seemed to have noticed Peter's fondness for regular t-shirts, even going so far as to find a handful of science pun shirts. The jeans were quite a bit more expensive than anything else he'd ever worn before, but they were nice and fit better than any other jeans he's ever worn.

He quickly donned his clothes, careful not to stretch in a way that would tear the still-pink scratch on his back. Dr. Cho was impressed with how quickly his body healed, saying it seemed that his healing even rivaled the super soldiers. As cool as that was, Peter couldn't pull himself from the funk he found himself in.

Peter knew that leaving without Mr. Stark's permission may make him mad the moment he crawled out onto the balcony, but the urge to see what was left of his home overwhelmed every other feeling. He regretted than now more than anything. People were dead, Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes got hurt, Peter himself was filleted by stupid rebar, dozens of people were homeless, and Mr. Stark could hardly look at him.

The last part bothered him more than he wanted it to. It reminded him of the way he felt after having his last argument with Ben, the night he died. Mr. Stark still made it to lunch and dinner, and told him about his various projects when Peter asked, but it seemed like Mr. Stark was pushing him away a little, only spending as much time as he had to to seem like everything was normal, only engaging in conversation when it was appropriate. It made the last two days pass excruciatingly slow.

Natasha said that the other's wanted to visit, but they also wanted to make sure he had plenty of space. Peter wasn't sure if he believed that. Not after pulling that stunt, when they already weren't sure if they liked him or not. He wouldn't be surprised if Bucky voted to kick him to the curb.

There was a knock on his bedroom door and Peter poked his head out of the bathroom door, where he had been standing in front of the mirror, trying to tame his hair.

"Yeah? I mean, uh, come in."

Natasha walked in, holding a backpack and something leather in her hands.

"Good morning. I figured you might want these before you left," she said, setting them on the bed.

He walked over, picking up the backpack and looking it over. It was a sleek, solid black backpack, with a black leather Rebel Alliance symbol in the top center, gold stitching around the pocket in the front. Peter's eyes brightened.

"Star Wars? Didn't peg you for the type," Peter teased, although her assassin skills would be killer in the Star Wars universe. If she could kick ass like that AND use the force? She would be unstoppable. He wondered if she was practiced with any weapons like that. She seemed more of a hand to hand type lady.

"Tony got them. Both of them," she said, pointedly, motioning to the wallet still sitting on the bed.

"Figures. You know, I bet Mr. Stark would throw himself into his own light saber to see you dressed up as Slave Leia," Peter smirked, giving her a knowing look. "Maybe you should do it for Halloween."

Natasha kept a blank face. "I don't know what any of that means."

"Man. You guys really need to start having movie nights or something. It will help with like-team building."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but he could see a glint of mirth in her eyes. "Oh god. Another Steve. I'm keeping you two separated."

Another Steve. He'd heard multiple times that he was like Mr. Stark, more often than not earning the speaker a bright blush, or stammered denial, but it was different being compared to Steve. On one hand, Steve was the guy who was too stubborn to see past his own agenda. He was the guy that he, Nat, Mr. Stark, Colonel Rhodes and Vision all fought against. _He thinks he's right and that makes him dangerous._ Peter felt a painful twisting in his gut.

That was Peter's problem in the end, wasn't it? He was so caught up in what he wanted he almost got everyone killed.

That wasn't all Steve was, though. He stayed with Peter when he was crazed and unwilling to move. He and Sergeant Barnes could have left him, they probably wouldn’t have been injured if they had, but they both made sure Peter got out safe. Steve didn't pick on him with the others either, not that the teasing really bothered him. If anything Steve seemed to back him up, even if it was for the sake of being nice versus actually being his friend. Someone who went out of their way to be kind like that couldn't be all bad, right?

"Anyway, I'm sorry Tony wasn't the one to give these to you."

"Oh, it's okay. Tell him thank you for me though. He-he busy with lab stuff or-or something?" Peter asked, looking through his fully stocked backpack, trying to sound casual.

Natasha smiled softly. "Or something. You know you could tell him yourself. Thank you, I mean."

"Yeah. I don't think that's a good idea."

Natasha looked like she wanted to say something, but her face changed, and he could tell her next words weren't what she wanted them to be. "Happy will be waiting downstairs to take you to school in 20 minutes. Oh, and don't spend all the money in one place."

Peter's head snapped up. Money?

He reached for the wallet and opened it curiously to find a bank card, a key card, and a state issued ID inside.

He looked up to ask where they got the ID, why he was given the money, or at least say thank you again, but she was already gone. It was insane how quick and quiet she was. He really needed to ask her for some pointers on the stealth stuff.

30 minutes and a peanut butter and banana sandwich later, Peter was in the downstairs lounge, backpack tight on his shoulders, his hair still untidy, but looking good in his new jeans and yellow Midtown High jacket.

Happy was waiting for him at the bar, chatting quietly with Natasha, who apparently along with being the coolest woman (aside from MJ) that he'd ever met, she was apparently also a worship-worthy goddess. She tossed Peter a red and blue thermos and when he opened up the lid, he was instantly blessed with the wonderful aroma of French vanilla coffee. 

"Nat, is it weird if I kind of love you?"

Natasha just grinned.

"You wouldn't be the first to tell her, kid," Happy grumbled.

"Oh, don't I know it," Peter said, thinking of the glances Tony stole when he thought nobody was paying attention.

"Careful, паук," Natasha warned, a playful edge in her voice. "Do I need to fill in Happy who in the tower makes you blush?"

Peter scoffed, the thought of Steve carrying Peter popping instantly into his mind, making him blush. "You act like it's just one of you. You're all abnormally beautiful. It's unfair."

Natasha laughed, and Happy rolled his eyes, twisting his keys in his hand.

"Are you ready or not? Unless you are wanting to be late, we need to leave ASAP."

Peter looked at the time and cursed, grabbing an apple off the counter and hurrying to the elevator, a step behind Happy. When they made it inside, Peter poked his head through the doors one last time. “Thanks again for the coffee, Nat. You’re the bomb. Best. You’re the best.” Natasha rolled her eyes, smiling. “Bye, Peter.” 

Happy didn't talk much, which was pretty much par of the course all of the times Peter'd been around the guy. Peter took his usual seat in the back, and didn't bother trying to spark up a conversation. Happy would probably pull the divider shut on him again.

Happy looked up at the rear view mirror to see Peter looking out the window, a pinched expression on his face, eerily similar to how Happy found Tony in the lab that morning. It was strange to be in the same space as the loud-mouthed Spider-Man and not be bombarded with questions and comments. It felt unnatural.

"Tony was pretty worried about you," He said, meeting Peter’s eyes in the mirror when he looked up. "I don't think I've ever seen him like that before."

Peter tried not to show how much that sentence bothered him.

"Yeah."

"When I saw Steve holding you, I thought I was going to pass out," Happy said, looking sheepish.

Happy, from what he'd heard from Natasha, had been the one to pick up Peter, The Captain and Sergeant Barnes a few blocks from the apartment. Apparently he’d been waiting for the pair nearby.

"Yeah, I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You should've seen Tony," Happy pressed. "If Steve hadn't called him before him and explained what happened, I'm pretty sure he would have murdered Steve and Bucky both."

Peter frowned, thinking back to what he remembered after waking up. Even if Tony cared so much then, he wasn’t so sure he did now. 

******

Peter didn't like hospitals.

When she was alive, his mom helped him through the worst of his fears, talking to him and comforting him with reassuring hugs and promises that she wouldn't leave his side. Once he was completely caught up on vaccinations, he avoided hospitals and doctors as much as possible. If he got sick, he would go to a mobile clinic. If he needed a random vaccination, he would go to a pharmacy or wait until they offered it at school. Peter wasn't afraid to admit it was a little silly, but he couldn't help it, and it was something Ned teased him about endlessly.

"How can you be scared of hospitals, dude? Your aunt is a nurse," he'd laughed the first time Peter mentioned it.

Peter didn't really understand it, though he'd tried to many times. He didn't particularly like the thought of being surrounded by death, and the idea that he could be exposed to pathogens was not exactly a calming, but Peter couldn't really pinpoint a specific incidence that crossed the boundary of mildly uncomfortable into heart palpitation inducing fear.

When he asked May about it, she said she figured it was because he was terrified of needles as a child. She explained that repeated exposure to a environment, like the hospital, where he was repeatedly exposed to a stressor, his fear of needles, caused his long-term aversion, kind of like that lesson in psychology about the kid, Little Albert, and the fluffy animals. Peter never argued with Aunt May, since that tidbit of information supposedly came straight from his parents, but he wasn't sure he was convinced, no matter how sound the logic.

There were a lot of reasons for his reluctance to accept the explanation, but the most obvious was that he couldn't remember ever being scared of needles. In fact, the first doctor's appointment Peter ever remembered going to, his father made a big deal about how he was the bravest kid he'd ever seen. Peter was so convinced that if past-Peter managed to pull through doctor's appointments so well, then obviously it couldn't be that bad, right? He had to prove to his dad that he was tough, so he did. He got his shots and a sucker and he went on with the rest of his day without a worry in the world.

If he hated needles so much to be terrified of hospitals, why wasn't he afraid of them now?

When Peter read about people waking up in the hospital, they always said that it was like wading through a thick fog, each of their senses coming back one at a time. They would feel the pain, then they could hear the beep of the monitor and the voices of loved ones talking. Next they would try to force their eyes open, taking in the bright white walls and with a gentle nudge from someone the character cared about a lot, the memory of what happened would wash over them.

When he finally woke up, the pain did come first, much to Peter's dismay. His whole body ached with each beat of his heart. Muscles he didn't even think he'd used felt like they were pulled and stretched like taffy, and there wasa soreness in his stomach where he'd been punched. Peter could distantly feel fingers running through his hair, but the faint pleasure he felt was mostly drown out by the piercing pain shooting throughout his entire back. When he was pulled far enough into consciousnesses to think to try it, he moved his arm to check the damage but something caught.

An IV, his mind supplied. From there his mind flickered through thoughts like a series of dominos. IV, bed, doctor, trapped, hospital, alone, pain...

His eyes shot open in panic and he was on the ceiling, ignoring the pain of what could only be stitches or staples popping loose, the IV pulling out of his skin with a tug. He readied his web shooters, but found they were no longer on his wrists.

"What the-"

A chair screeched as it skid across the floor, and Peter's eyes shot to the side, a slack-jawed Mr. Stark staring up at him. Mr. Stark didn't say anything at first, too shocked to see the 170 pound kid crouching on the ceiling. When the silence broke, it was with Mr. Stark letting out a startled laugh.

Well, that's definitely an interesting party trick there, Pete, but why don't you come down? You almost gave me a heart attack," he said, his hand placed over the arc reactor in his chest. "Remind me to call you when I need my ceilings cleaned."

Peter looked around, confused to find himself in a large room, almost double the size of his and May's apartment, with grey walls and unfamiliar T͏e͏ch scattered in random places, a bed at each station. There was a machine next to his bed, but there was no beeping, no curtains or medical instruments in sight. The lights were dimmed, but some light shone from the floor to ceiling windows at his right.

"What-what-Where are we?" Peter asked, his voice hoarse and dry sounding.

"Med bay at the compound," Mr. Stark answered, giving Peter a smile that more closely resembled a grimace. He righted his chair and looked to contemplate sitting down in it before choosing to cross his arms and remain standing. "You lost a lot of blood."

Peter nodded, dumbly, still trying to process everything he was seeing.

"Pretty cool set up, huh?"

Peter nodded again. "It's...different. Grey. You say med wing?"

"Medbay, Yeah. I'm not big on hospitals. You know all the press and all that. Plus they're creepy. I'll argue anyone on that. Too white, I think. Smells gross. Itchy sheets," Mr. Stark all but shuttered as he walked over to a small fridge opposite Peter's bed. "Just not a good place. This is way more efficient, regardless. You thirsty?"

Peter's head seemed to spin and even though he hadn't noticed until Mr. Stark said it,his throat really was dry as the Sahara.

"Little," he croaked.

"Apple, grape or orange?" Tony asked, looking up at him over his shoulder as if seeing a child on the ceiling was the most ordinary thing in the world.

"Oh, uh. Orange please, sir."

Mr. Stark pulled out a small round container of juice, pulling on the aluminum tab until half of it was peeled back, then grabbed a grape for himself. He paused by bed, holding it out to him and sighed.

"Not sure about all your powers kid, but I doubt defying gravity of liquids is one of them. Is your weakness sitting on beds or something or is my ceiling really that comfortable?" Mr. Stark asked, quirking his head and turning his eyes to the side in faux contemplation.

Peter eyed him grumpily, then dropped his feet, hanging from the ceiling from nothing but his fingertips, released one hand, then the other, landing gracefully in a crouched position on the bed.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," he mumbled, taking the juice and swallowing it down in three easy gulps. It was sweet and tangy, setting his tastebuds alight and adding much needed moisture to his lips and tongue. "I'm not sure why that's my first instinct. I guess because I know nobody can get me up there."

Mr. Stark scoffed, taking a drink of his own juice and setting it on the side table. "Get me a broom and I can disprove your theory, easy."

Peter hummed softly, amused, but he knew the light banter couldn't last forever. He had too many questions for that. "Did anyone..Did everyone make it out?"

Tony nodded, pulling Peter's blankets back so he could lay down. Peter understood and followed his lead easily, shifting his body off of the blankets, and tucking his legs under, grateful for the warmth. Tony was careful not to touch Peter, despite all of his bruises already being mostly gone. Even though he took a little longer to heal the worse off he was, he still seemed to be doing pretty well. 

"Everyone was accounted for," Tony said. "Safe and sound and taken care of."

"Nobody was hurt?"

Mr. Stark shook his head and sat back down in his chair, crossing his legs. "Nope. Everyone was fine. One guy got a cut from some falling glass, but other than that," Tony shrugged. "You did good, kid."

Peter just stared at the blanket, rubbing his hands over the soft, silky material.

"Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes?"

Tony tilted his head back, his cheek and eye twitching in tandem.

"They're fine. Few bumps and bruises, nothing they can't handle. Stop worrying about everyone else. You're the one laid up in bed with an ungodly amount of staples inside you," Tony said, frustration leaking into his tone.

Peter could see the dark circles under Tony's eyes and he felt a pang of guilt.

"Was it that bad?"

Tony didn't answer, his eyes averted, trained somewhere on the floor.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. For leaving and everything."

Tony's frown deepened. "Don't apologize, kid. Let's just forget about it okay?"

But it wasn't okay. Nothing was okay.

"I really need to though. I shouldn't have gone without asking you."

"You're right, but there's nothing either of us can do about it now."

"I know, I just didn't expect-I didn't think that they would be waiting, you know?"

"That's because you didn't think at all," Mr. Stark finally snapped, all of the fear and anger bursting through at once. Peter's eyes went wide. "Why do you think they went back and took everything? Think they had a hankering for a new flat screen and a few bath towels? No.” Tony’s voice lowered, as if just catching himself, but it didn’t lose any of its steel. “No. Hydra is smart, Peter. They are going to try anything to lure you out. They are going to go after everything, everyone you love. We are trying to help. We are going to keep you and everyone you know out of danger, but that's kind of hard to do if you run straight to it."

Peter's brows furrowed. "I know you want to keep me safe but you can't keep me in a box, Mr. Stark. I won't just hide away for the rest of my life. I still have school and responsibilities. I'm still Spider-Man."

Mr. Stark stood up, pacing, looking more and more angry the longer he talked.

"Spider-Man? _Spider-Man_ is the last thing I'm worried about right now. I think Queens PD can handle their own job for a bit, don't you?"

"They shouldn't have to. I can help them, so I will," Peter said, determinedly.

Tony shook his head, willing Peter's words not to reach him. He stopped running his hand through his hair to point a trembling finger at him.

"I'm the one who's supposed to be watching out for you. If anything happens to you, that's on me, you get that right? You're laying in this bed, riddled with bruises and cuts, a gash that takes up half your back."

Mr. Stark picked up a clip board at the end of the bed, flipping through the papers.

"Blood loss, possible concussion, damaged eardrum, bruised ribs," Mr. Stark's voice cracked, and huffed self-deprecatingly. "I wanted to help, I wanted to.."

Mr Stark shook his head. "Maybe I'm not cut out for this."

Peter felt all the wind blow from his sails. He never thought he'd see Mr. Stark look so defeated. All because Peter couldn't keep his mouth shut. He couldn't just give an apology like a normal person. He had to get all defensive.

"That wasn't your fault," Peter tried. "I'm sorry I-"

Mr. Stark held up an interrupting hand.

"It is. I should have known you'd leave. It's what I would've done. It's what any of us would have. I shouldn't have left you alone."

"That isn't-I didn't-Mr. Stark-"

"You were in a building that was rigged with bombs. There were what? Fifteen trained Hydra agents? When I realized you were gone, I should have put the suit on then and there, but I trusted Steve and Barns. I never imagined-" Mr. Stark shook his head. "I never thought that it would come down to this."

Before Peter could form a cohesive response, there was a small knock on the door.

Natasha was standing just inside the door, two coffee's in her hand. Piercing eyes shining with disapproving peeked out between her perfectly curled hair.

"Should I come back?"

Peter looked between them, mouth open with unspoken words. There were so many things he wanted to say, but how could he?

"No. It's fine. I need some air anyway," Tony twisted away from Peter, stalking past Natasha after grabbing the coffee from her hand then retreated down the hallways.

*****

That was the last time they talked about what happened. Every time they saw each other after, it was awkward and tense, so unlike all the time they spent with each other before. Even the first few hours after Mr. Stark learned his identity passed easier than the last two days. His apartment wasn’t the only thing that got destroyed when he crawled off the balcony. 

"I didn't mean to freak him out," Peter said, picking at a frayed shoelace, his foot resting over the opposite knee.

Happy shrugged, but didn't respond. Talking about feelings wasn't really his forte. Yet, seeing the look on the kid's face, knowing Tony was working himself to death in the lab as penance..it didn't feel right. He waited until the car rolled up to the front of the school, and Peter had the door opened before he spoke again.

"Tony’s been different since Afghanistan. As long as I’ve known him, he’s always been a stickler for details, but since he came back he’s been even more of a control freak, almost obsessed with keeping everything in line, wanting to build a suit of armor over the world just to keep all the bad out," Happy said, almost conversationally. "Controlling is Tony’s default. Especially when it comes to people he cares about."

Peter paused, taking in the words, then looked up at Happy, his brows furrowed.

"It's not always easy to read Tony, but if you look hard enough it is possible.” Happy let Peter process that for a moment before putting the car in park, and unlocking the doors. “Now, get out. You're holding up the line," Happy ordered.

Peter huffed out a laugh but complied, ignoring people's eyes following him as he walked to his locker, peeking around corners, hoping to see Ned before his first class. Ned was caught up on everything for the most part, almost having had a heart attack when he saw Peter's apartment I'm shambles on the news. Thankfully Natasha answered the phone and managed to talk him down, but only with the promise that he would be 'fully and completely briefed' when Peter woke up. That had been a great way to spend his first hour of alone time.

Peter brightened a bit when Michelle met his eye across the hall.

"Hey loser," she said, books in arms, a small smile on her otherwise impassive face. She reached into her pocket. "Here."

Michelle held out a mint colored rectangular box. Peter eyed it and quirked his head quizzically. It wasn't his birthday. Was he missing something?

She shook the box emphatically, as if to say, "gunna take it or not?"

Peter slowly took it from her hands and inspected the outside of the box. He turned it over, looking for some kind of hint as to what it was, a logo, a brand name something, but no dice. "Thank you?"

Michelle smirked, obviously seeing right though him. "If you'd open it, you'd see it's a steel straw."

Peter's face brightened instantly. "Whoa, no way. That's awesome! Thanks, MJ."

She shrugged. "I heard about your aunt. You got me that book when my dad left. Couldn't let your sympathy gift show up mine."

It was weird how she could bring up something so heart-wrenching and make it seem casual. It was just so MJ. He found a strange amount of comfort in that.

"Never." He couldn't keep down a small laugh, then gasped excitedly, holding up the unpackaged straw. "It even has a turtle!"

Peter turned toward the familiar voice coming from behind him.

"I see you got your 'get well soon' gift," Ned grinned, grabbing Peter by the left shoulder, squeezing and shaking it excitedly. “Glad you’re back, buddy.”

"Sympathy gift," MJ corrected, rocking on her feet.

Ned sighed. "MJ, we talked about this. Get well gift sounds way better. Yours just sounds depressing and kind of inappropriate."

Peter shrugged, grinning, welcoming their familiar bickering. Normalcy was just what he needed. Time around his best friends didn't exactly hurt. "No, no. Its-uh. Its cool. Really. I like it."

Ned gave him a withering look. "Of course you do."

Peter flushed, but didn't argue.

"Anyway, you should've seen her. MJ was scared you wouldn't like it."

MJ gave him an unimpressed glare.

"I wouldn't be scared of something so trivial. Project Blue Beam? Scary. Monarch Programming? Absolutely. Peter's preference in straws? Meh."

Ned looked at her like she had two heads then sighed, exasperated. "It's too early for conspiracy theories, M."

The bell rang and MJ shrugged. "It's that kind of thinking that keeps you in the dark, Ned. See you guys at lunch."

Ned waited until MJ turned away before wiggling his brow at Peter, then they went their separate ways, Peter feeling lighter than he did that morning with his gift in hand. He regretted signing up for more biochem based classes, not for the first time that semester, because now he only got to have one class and lunch with his friends. It would help him in the long run, but it made the day go so much slower.

Flash seemed to have realized Peter was back, but thankfully he didn't seem too interested in picking on the kid who's aunt was missing. Peter could feel the stares, and hear the whispers of those around him in class. Some people thought he was gone so long because they had kidnapped him too, or been attacked at the very least, having to take a few days to recover. One guy accused Peter of milking it for attention, but Peter didn't let it get to him. Not really, anyway.

By the time he made it to lunch, he was feeling both weary and hyper from pent up energy, and more than a little sore. After spending the last two days sleeping or only around Natasha and Tony, so much movement and thinking and socializing was disorienting. He couldn't decide if he wanted to ditch and go swinging through the city or hide in a closet to take a nap, not that he really had the option of either.

Ned met him outside the cafeteria, looking a little worried.

"Dude, I didn't even think. If I did I would've brought something but I didn't and I'm sorry," Ned gushed suddenly. Peter was taken aback by the sudden apology.

"Uhm, what exactly didn't you do?"

"I didn't think about lunch," Ned explained. "Mom should be able to give me extra tomorrow, but if you want you can have half my tray today. "

Peter blinked, feeling touched by his friend's concern. He shook his head placatingly and pulled out his wallet. "No, Ned, It's cool. Mr. Stark gave me this until they find out where I'm going to go."

Ned's eyes widened, holding the wallet and pulling out the solid gold credit card in his hand like it was made of glass. "Wow! I wonder what your limit is! You should try to buy a car!"

"I'm not buying a car, Ned."

"Okay, a motorcycle!"

"I don't even have my license."

"True. But still. That would be pretty awesome."

"What would be awesome?" MJ asked as she walked up behind Ned, pulling her curly hair up into a messy ponytail.

Ned gave him a panicked look .

"A project I'm working on," Peter said, easily. "I'll show you at the table."

They walked through the lunch line, typing in their ID codes, and grabbed their food, talking and catching each other up on what they were learning in their individual classes as they walked. When they sat down, Peter made a show of popping his straw into his bottled water, pulling a smile from MJ, then showed Ned a few ideas he jotted down in his SI notebook in his last class and they debated possible materials and programs he could develope his projects with while at school, despite both of them knowing he had full access to Mr. Stark's lab now. Michelle didn't seem impressed, but she never did. In truth she was happy with just listening to the boys, aiding on a few equations Peter couldn't seem to get right.

“I would need some kind of heating mechanism to make it work, but I can’t think of anything that I could salvage that would fit and also not catch it on fire.”

“No fire would be ideal,” Ned agreed. “I’m sure you’ll figure out something.”

They discussed possible solutions, but Peter could tell something was bothering Ned. After a few more minutes of torturing Ned with his theories he finally dropped the pencil. “Alright. Spit it out.” 

"Sorry. I hate to ask, dude, but I have to know,” Ned started. MJ tried not to appear interested but Peter could see her shift forward slightly. "Have they figured out anything else about the bombs?”

Peter twirled his limp chicken fry in his thoroughly mixed mashed potatoes. "No. Dr. Banner is supposed to be here in a day or two, but until then we won't know much."

"Dr. Banner?" MJ asked, laying her book on the table. "Bruce Banner? He’s coming to work on the bomb case?”

“Yeah, why?” 

“I don’t know. I thought you said that internship thing with Mr. Stark was a one time deal."

"It was," Peter said, trying to remember everything he'd said to her about it. 

"Then why is Bruce Banner checking out a bomb involving your apartment while you’re chilling in Stark Tower?”

“I mean, it was my apartment, but it was still a bomb. It’s not that weird that they are investigating it,” Peter said, shrugging.

Michelle snorted. “Yeah, okay. sure. The Avengers investigating a bomb and a kidnapping that both involve Peter is completely normal,” she said, a challenge in her voice.

"Uh-what?" Ned asked. “What makes you think it was about Peter?” 

"Seriously? Are you guys really thinking that Peter's aunt getting kidnapped within a week of a bombing isn't coincidence?"

Peter should have known it would be obvious. He should have planned today better, but in his defense, it’s not like he didn’t have other things on his mind. 

"MJ," Ned crooned, rubbing his hands on his pants nervously. "Didn't I say to lay off the conspiracies?"

MJ obviously didn’t appreciate that comment and Peter shot Ned a look saying, “you’re not helping.” Ned shrugged back apologetically. 

"You guys are being weird. Weirder than usual," she observed, bitterly. “I don’t like when you guys do that talking without saying things thing.”

Peter sighed heavily. Today was not getting easier and lying was only going to make things worse.

"The reason the Avengers are involved is because they think May got taken because of my part in the Stark internship," Peter explained. “They want to make sure that letting me tag along isn’t the reason May was targeted. They feel guilty, so they are helping in any way they can.” 

Ned's mouth dropped open. "Wait, really? You didn't tell me that."

"Your aunt got kidnapped because a 17 year old kid went on a super secret internship trip? Developing...what did you say it was?"

Peter could tell just by her tone that she wasn't buying it, but more than that, she was getting irritated. Her bottom lip pouted out, the way it did when she thought too hard, and her jaw was tense.

"Nano particles, and yeah, they seem to be worried that might be the case," Peter said. 

It was true, partially anyway. Mr Stark talked over the subject a bit before the big showdown, but it was to Nat and it was hardly a full lecture. 

MJ searched his face, an obviously worried Ned looking between them. Finally she shrugged, and to his relief, picked her book back up, her normal blank slate expression pulling itself back up with it. They managed to fall back into normal conversation and the rest of lunch was nice. Ned learned his lesson and they stuck to more tame subjects like the upcoming Decathlon meet and Ned’s mom’s pies until about five minutes til the bell.

"Who's that?" Peter asked, straddling the table bench so he could put his notebook into his backpack. Ned and Michelle both perked up, and followed Peter's eyes. Behind Ned, a boy with white blonde hair was sitting with a small group near the cafeteria exit, laughing at something Flash said. He was at least a junior, but definitely looked older. His clothes were high end, from what he could guess from seeing Mr. Stark's clothes, which explained how he managed to sit with Flash's group already. Sarah Wheeler was looking at the newbie with a cute, flirty smile, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

Michelle shrugged. "Oh. He's a new kid. Been here maybe a week or so, I guess."

"Yeah. I've definitely seen him around. He looks like a Malfoy," Ned said, turning to sit back in his seat normally. "Kinda hard to forget those."

"Mm," Peter commented, his lips forming a thin line.

“Did you hear where he’s from?”

Both of his friends shook their heads.

"No. Why? You know him?" Michelle asked.

“No. Why do you ask?” 

”Because you’re staring at him like you’ve seen him before or something.” 

Peter shook his head, still focusing on the kid. There was something wrong there, but Peter couldn't put his finger on it. 

"I was going to invite him to eat with us but I didn't need to since he seems to be buddy buddy with Flash," Ned said, seemingly put off by that fact.

"I don't know. Seems stuck up to me," MJ muttered, pushing her peas around her plate, eyes locked on the guy. 

"All the more reason to avoid him," Peter said, without thinking. Michelle's brows shot up in surprise and Ned frowned.

"What? Why?" Ned asked. "Aren't you usually Mr. Help the Little Guys or something?"

Peter took a bite of his roll, looking at the kid again. His face was soft, almost warm looking despite his strong build. He was picking at his food, nodding and listening raptly as the others at his table talked to him. He seemed normal enough, yet not. Peter couldn't put his finger on it. Then they met eyes. He had to fight the urge to stand when he felt the familiar crawl of his spider senses beneath his skin.

Peter didn't answer Ned's question, not even sure Ned wanted him to, and instead turned his attention back to his physics book. He pretended to look at the various diagrams, but Michelle knew he wasn't. His eyes were pointed at the paper, but they didn't flit across the paper like they usually did when he was reading or studying. She bit the inside of her cheek in thought. This wasn't really the time to bring up the questions she had anyway.

****

Two major projects, 3 labs, and two makeup tests later, the halls were buzzing with people again, all of them obviously too enraptured with socializing to care about making their way home. Peter searched for Happy in the line of cars, hoping to avoid Ned, who was surely going to pound him with questions Peter wasn't ready to answer.

As hard as Peter tried to appear unaffected by the feeling he had at lunch, he couldn't. He barely paid attention in any of his remaining classes. It was like once he noticed the guy, he could feel where he was constantly. In fourth period, he was near the back of the classroom. In sixth he was only two chairs away. He kept seeing him in between periods, and his was anxiety was so ramped up Ned managed to nail him with a paper ball, which he hadn't been able to do since he got his abilities. The paper asked if he wanted to come to his house, but he had to decline, as much as he knew Ned probably needed some bro time. All he really wanted to do was talk to Mr. Stark. He was better at things like this.

Peter caught sight of the new kid as he turned the corner and hurriedly shut his locker, practically jogging so he could follow behind. He kept his eyes trained on the back of the his head as they walked out of the door, which was easy even with all the people around because of his hair. Peter considered confronting him, but what would he say? He didn’t even know the guy’s name. Instead he took off walking down the sidewalk, not wanting to wait for Happy at the doors if they were going to have to be in the same space. 

"Pete! Peter!"

Peter could hear the tell-tell sound of Ned's keys and backpack keychains jangling as he jogged over. Peter wished he could disappear, not wanting to have this conversation, and instantly felt guilty at how crappy he was being. Ned was his best friend. Of course he was going to have questions. As many favors as he'd gotten the last two weeks, Ned deserved to ask whatever he wanted.

"Hey man, what the heck?" Ned asked, a bit of hurt in his voice. "I thought you caught me up."

Peter pulled him to the side of the building, looking around them before answering. "I did, man. On everything important, anyway."

"Uhm, yeah. No. Sorry. I think I would remember if you told me you were being hunted because of the Avengers," Ned said, dryly.

"I didn’t tell you because I don't believe it. I just told her what Mr. Stark thinks. How else was I supposed to explain me being at Tony Stark's the last few days?"

"Is he right? About it being because of the avengers?" Ned asked, his voice cracking. 

Peter was confused at the desperation in his voice before it dawned on him. Peter wasn't the only one who cared about May. He and Ned were best friends since Kindergarten. They basically lived at each other's houses during the summer. May was the one who bought his first set of LEGOS and helped them bake cookies for the bake sale in fifth grade. This was probably hard on Ned too.

"No, Ned. I don't think so."

"You don't have to lie. It's obvious these guys are good. We knew that from the beginning," Ned said, tightening his grip on his backpack straps.

"I'm not lying.” Ned gave him a look. “I’m serious. I really don't think it's them. They do, obviously, but I don't know. I just have a weird feeling that it has nothing to do with them," Peter explained.

"The same feeling you have about the new kid?" Ned asked skeptically.

"I don't know," Peter said sharply, his head starting to hurt. “It's just a bad feeling, okay?”

”Okay. I get it. I mean it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve sensed something bad, right? I just don’t understand what could be bad about that guy. He doesn’t look threatening.”

Neither did Peter for that matter. Nobody would believe Peter was Spider-Man, even if they told them. Mr. Stark definitely didn’t believe him.

”Don't you think it's weird, though?" Peter wondered out loud.

"What?"

"I don't know, that this new guy showed up right after May was taken?" Peter said, throwing his eye back behind Ned. The white hair was gone, but Peter swore he could still feel him there. He knew he sounded crazy, but he couldn't explain it.

Ned didn't answer, but the familiar crinkle of his nose showed he was thinking, so Peter didn't press.

"Did you talk to Mr. Stark about the security program?" Ned asked. Peter frowned at his non-answer, but nodded.

"You know I did. You were on the phone with me."

"Okay, well, cool. Here." Ned held out the flash drive, and clapped it into Peter's hand. "I put a list of all of the different features of the new system and there should be a step by step program to walk him through uploading all of his current tech onto it, and inputting his passwords. Somewhere near the bottom, there should be a folder called 'Parker Ping' that can keep tabs on certain phrases, kind of like a google alert I set up for May when we won our first Decathlon meet. It will alert Mr. Stark anytime one of the programmed phrases is searched, no matter what search engine, and automatically traces the source."

"Isn't that illegal?" Peter asked. "Like super illegal?"

"Beside the point. Maybe you should ask him to set one up for you and May."

Ned grinned, waiting expectantly for his approval and Peter grimaced.

"I don't know. Mr. Stark isn't happy with me," Peter said, unsure.

Ned groaned.

"If you think there's even a chance that the kid is bad news or that people are going to keep gunning for you, you need to give it to Tony, okay? Let him run the tests or whatever that he wanted to run, then tell him what you told me," Ned pressed.

Peter looked over Ned's shoulder again and sure enough he spotted a white tuft of hair sticking out in the dwindling crowd.

"I don't know."

"Peter. May's gone. You're apartment was blown apart. By bombs. Literally."

"I get that, Ned. I do, but this-this is Mr. Stark, you know? You know how much I-how much I look up to him or whatever. He's already mad at me and I'm sure he has a lot of things he has to worry about."

"Peter, you have to-"

A loud car honking made the boys jump, and Happy was waving Peter to hurry up.

"I'm sorry, man I really gotta go. Can we drop you off?" Peter asked, glad for once to have his conversation cut off. Ned let the conversation slide, but didn't look thrilled about it.

"I wish. Mom's picking me up."

"Okay well. Just stay away from him, okay? At least for now. I just-I have a really bad feeling."

"I get it. You give that to Stark, okay?" The demand was clear in his voice, and it sounded strange coming from his usually passive voice.

Peter relented, nodding in defeat. "Yeah, Alright. Text me when you get home."

"Sure thing."

******

Peter chickened out.

The moment Happy expressed that he was going to go talk to Mr. Stark before he headed back home, Peter gave him the flash drive and made it Happy's problem. He was the head of security, right? It was kind of his job to handle that stuff anyway.

Happy looked confused at the little stick in his hand, but Peter was quick to assure him that Mr. Stark would know what it was when he opened it.

Natasha was sitting at the table, watching the exchange from the corner of her eye with a strange look on her face. Peter slipped off his shoes then walked over to join her, where she was eating half a sandwich, pushing the remaining half on a glass plate across the counter in front of Peter when he sat down.

"Hey kid. Bad day?"

Peter shook his head, but took the sandwich. "Thanks."

“No problem. Anything interesting happen today?” 

It was strange how different he felt around Natasha in just a few days. It's like, he knew that she could probably kill him with nothing but her left pinky, even with his abilities, but he trusted her not to. She was probably the strongest woman he knew, outside of Wanda who he was still terrified to meet, and instead of feeling scared or intimidated, he found himself feeling safe.

“You have no idea.” 

"Want to talk about it?"

Peter stopped mid-chew and Natasha raised a victorious brow. He sat the sandwich back down and swallowed, wiping the crumbs on his pants.

"Not sure it's worth mentioning," he said, honestly.

"If it's bothering you then obviously it is."

“I didn’t say it was bothering me.” 

”But it is.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at her, deciding after a moment it couldn't hurt to share what he felt.

"There was a kid there. Some new guy. I got really bad vibes off of him," he explained, feeling a little stupid voicing it out loud to someone who wasn’t Ned. 

"This isn't like a 'guy flirted with my girl so I don't like him' kind of thing right?" She asked, eyebrows raised.

Peter looked scandalized, the image of Steven flirting with MJ putting him on edge.

"No. Definitely not that."

Natasha hummed.”This that Peter tingle you have?"

Peter groaned around his mouthful of sandwich. "It's not a Peter tingle! It's my Spidey-Sense. It's like, I don't know. It's kind of like a very limited precognition. I can feel when bad stuff is gunna happen. Kind of."

"Is that how you knew the bomb was about to go off?"

Peter was shocked. Had Steve or Bucky told them that he only barely managed to get them out?

"Y-Yeah. Today, it was like I only had to look at the guy once and I wanted to turn tail, you know. Not like I was scared, just like I knew he was a danger." Peter paused, thinking back to how he felt after school, who he really wanted to be telling this stuff to. Was he really just going to keep avoiding the inevitable? If Tony was mad at him, that was fine. Well, not really, but he would deal with it. For right now though, he needed him. 

"JARVIS, where is Mr. Stark?"

"Boss is in the lab, still talking with Happy Hogan."

Peter's mouth screwed to the side. "How long do you think they'll be?"

"Happy needs to leave within 10 minutes if he is to pick up Ms. Potts on time," JARVIS replies.

Natasha placed a gentle hand on his arm. "It's worth the wait."

Peter warmed at the contact and couldn't help but feel a little relieved at her urging.

"Can you please ask him to meet us in the kitchen when he's done?"

"Of course, Mr. Parker."

Peter's leg jiggled incessantly under the table.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and putting her feet up on the table next to her. The kid was freaking out. It was to be expected at this point. The kid was practically a bit floofball of anxiety. With Tony still acting stubborn about moving forward, she didn't have many options. If she knew anything, it was that if she didn't push this thing forward, nobody would.

"Tony wants you to stay."

Peter wasn't sure how to respond to that. "I know. From what he said I'm on temporary lockdown."

"No, he wants you to stay with him. Long term. That's what the meeting was supposed to be about the other day. He wanted to ask to be your guardian. He had the papers ready and everything."

Peter's breath caught in his throat. "Papers?"

"He knows there is a possibility finding your aunt could take a while. He thought that if you had to stay with anyone, he wanted it to be him."

Peter gaped at her.

Mr. Stark wanted to be his guardian. His guardian. God, that made so much sense and no sense at all at the same time. All the insisting they would have plenty of time to work on projects together, telling him he could buy decorations or paint or whatever he wanted for his room.

Mr. Stark's words floated into his thoughts.

_Maybe I'm not cut out for this._

That-that hurt. Knowing that after everything Mr. Stark had done for him from making him a suit to trying to make him feel at home in an impossible situation, Peter made him doubt his capability made the words made them that much worse.

"Shit," he breathed, putting his face in his hands. "I screwed up so bad."

Natasha sighed. "I didn't tell you to make you feel bad. I told you to help you understand why he's being so difficult. Okay?"

Peter nodded, but didn't feel any less miserable or confused.

Both of them turned at the sound of Happy's voice echoing in the hallway.

"Alright, Peter. I'll be here at 6:45. If you are going to sit around and talk tomorrow, do it before then. I can't hang around all morning," Happy said, waving the curled up piece of paper in his hand.

"Okay. Thanks, Happy."

"See you guys. Stark, Nat."

Happy retreated into the elevator and Mr. Stark looked at them expectantly.

"JARVIS said that you guys were begging to have a heart to heart? Exchange apologies. Sound familiar? If it does I'm going to have to take some Benadryl real quick, feelings tend to make me break out," Tony joked, pulling out a seat beside Natasha. Peter tried not to act amused by his choice in seat, and pulled it off pretty well thanks to all the nerves.

"Prepare the calamine," Peter laughed weakly.

Tony went from cool confidence to caged animal in a second flat. 

"Oh, god, really? I was just joking," Tony said, sounding appalled.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Peter had a tingle."

"You guys do this on purpose I know it," Peter growled. "It's my Spidey sense, okay?"

"Yeah. That."

Peter glared at Natasha, then sighed.

"There's this new kid at school. He started right after May went missing. I know it sounds stupid but it’s like as soon as I saw him he got under my skin. I haven’t even talked to him and I feel like, I don’t know. It’s like anticipation, but in a bad way. Like there’s a rubber band beneath my skin and when he’s close it just gets pulled tighter and tighter. I’m just sitting there waiting for it to snap.”

“And its a kid?” Tony asked, eyes hard.

“I mean, yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Peter said.

“Peter he’s a kid, approximately your age, who shows up out of nowhere setting off your thing,” Mr. Stark motioned in a vague circle. “Hydra dabbles in everything. We can’t rule anything out.”

”What are you guys thinking?”

Natasha’s eyes were dark. “Nobody evil was every really against child soldiers. That’s a possibility. They could be trying to find different mutates to work for them. That would explain their interest in you, and your senses’ reaction to the kid.”

Peter didn’t really like that explanation, at all really, but it was to his immense relief that they both seemed to be taking him seriously despite Nat’s earlier jokes. After debating theories, Nat asked what he looked like, his age, grade, things like that, and told him to let her know if he tried to talk to Peter. Peter didn’t really have a lot of information, and he wasn’t exactly comfortable trying to get more on him. Even if Ned was willing to get close to the kid to learn a few things, Peter wouldn’t be. Tony said it would be fine and sent the physical description to the others. As long as he could find out the kid’s full name so they could do a search on him.

They discussed setting up a defense training schedule for him, which excited him immensely.

“Yeah, if it wasn’t for my web shooters, I don’t know if I could’ve taken those guys,” Peter admitted. “My senses are great and all, but between the dart and the number of guys, I’m just lucky I didn’t take my suit off.”

“Do you not wear your shooters all the time?” Tony asked, stopping what he was working on on the laptop.

“Uh, no. They are kind of bulky. I mean, considering how much liquid they hold, and how lightweight they are, they are pretty small but it’s still not something I can wear all the time.”

Tony frowned, but nodded. “Bring your notes to the lab tomorrow after school and we will work on them.”

Natasha looked between them, then slid out of her chair. She grabbed Tony’s phone and help it out expectantly for him to unlock it. He seemed to hesitate a moment, then locked eyes with her before typing his passcode in.

“You guys good with pizza tonight? I’ll order,” she said.

“Heck yes. Pepperoni, bacon and jalapeño please!” Peter said excitedly.

“I’ll eat whatever,” Tony said, already turned back to his laptop.

“Okay. Be right back.” Natasha have Peter a meaningful look, then walked to the living room.

Peter could feel himself getting all twitchy again. He was so bad at this. Why did Natasha trust him to be able to do this on his own? He should just suck it up and say it. It’s just two little words. Nobody ever died from an apology, especially when it was so well deserved. 

Peter shifted his backpack into his lap, resting his chin on it, and hugged it tightly to his chest. 

“I’m sorry.”

Peter jerked from his thoughts.“What?”

Mr. Stark pulled his glasses off and sat them on the desk. “You really going to make me say it again? Who knew Spider-Man was a sadist.”

Peter huffed out a laugh. “No, I just-I didn’t think that there was really a reason for you to apologize. Its my fault. I was sitting here trying not to explode trying to figure out how to say that I’m sorry.”

“Kid, I told you already. You did what any one of us would have done. Being a martyr and a dumbass is kind of one of the reasons us supers stay in packs. We take turns babysitting each other so we aren’t always out making stupid decisions,” Mr. Stark said, a hint of regret in his voice, as if remembering just how many times they’ve had to do just that. “The thing is though is you’ve gotta let us do our job.”

Peter nodded solemnly. “I know, I’m sorry. I just-you are my hero.” Peter blushed furiously. “God that sounds stupid.”

“I kind of got that with the Iron Man notebook, Underoos,” Tony said, smirking. “Star struck is a good look on you. When it’s aimed at me anyway.”

Peter groaned, rubbing his hands over his heated face. “Oh god. You can’t tell Nat.”

“It’s not Nat you have to worry about. Rhodey and Clint will give you hell forever if they find out, though.”

They bantered like that back and forth for a minute, Mr. Stark telling him about more about the famous Hawkeye and his penchant for hustling strangers at darts.

Peter eyed the living room warily, knowing that Nat should be back any second. He swallowed heavily. “So, I know this probably not what you wanted or expected,” Peter started, trying to ignore the sudden pinch of Mr. Stark’s eyebrow. “I didn’t mean for all this when I came to you. I don’t know what I expected, honestly. As much as this sucks, you-you’ve helped me a lot. I was just, I wanted to make sure you were okay with it if I-if I you know? Stay? Here? If you don’t want me to anymore it’s-“

Tony stopped him, closing his laptop and turning to face him completely.

“Peter, as long as you want it you will always have a place here,” Tony said, his voice sincere. “I’m going to work to get your aunt back, I swear. Honestly, you agreeing to temporary custody papers would make life a lot easier, but I’d be lying if I said that was the only reason I want to do this. You will always have a home here, even if that means that living here isn’t so temporary.”

Tony watched carefully as a flurry of emotions flirted across Peter’s face. He was suddenly unsure of his forward ness when Peter’s throat bobbed and turned away, his eyes shining.

Peter scrunched his nose, willing his tears back, trying to ignore the loosening knot in his chest. When he was sure he got it under control, he cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. We can sign over pizza.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked the chapter. As always you are welcome to leave positive or negative feedback or what you’d like to see! 
> 
> Next chapter starts with the first step in bringing Peter and Steve closer together, so yay! Let’s look forward to that together!


	6. Am I More Than You Bargained For, Yet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations everywhere!  
> Information on Hydra.  
> A departure of the travel kind.  
> Flash is a grade-A prickk

Peter shot up in his bed, his chest heaving as his room was filled with the sound of a piercing guitar solo. He scrambled to hit his alarm clock, his legs twisted in his sheets, but came away confused when he hit the button twice and it didn't shut off. Blurred eyes read that it was only 5 AM, and nowhere near time to wake up. He hurriedly looked to the TV, but it was still black, and his brain blanked. As quickly as it came, the music cut off, and Peter sighed in relief, his heart still thundering in his chest.

"What the hell was that about?" He muttered, flopping back onto his pillow.

"Apologies, Mr. Parker. Miss Romanoff requested the Stark alarm be activated in your quarters. She is waiting for you in the training room," JARVIS said, sounding suspiciously amused.

Peter groaned. "Nat did this? Tell her she's a traitor and I now understand why her name backwards is Ah...Satan."

"Of course, Peter. I will let her know."

Peter forced himself to roll out of the comfort of his very comfortable and presumably very expensive bed and made his way to the bathroom. He started on his routine, using the bathroom, tidying his hair and pulling on his clothes. Peter had only just started brushing his teeth when JARVIS' voice came over the speaker again.

"Miss Romanoff wanted me to ask how long you've been waiting to use that line, and to inform you that if you are not down in five minutes, she will find you and show you Satan."

Peter stopped mid-brush of his teeth and looked up at the ceiling.

"Sheerioshhly JARBISH? You shound rike a sherial killer shaaying shtuff rike that all cashhual and shhtuff," Peter said, his toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

"My apologies, Peter. I don't speak toothbrush."

Peter walked back to the bathroom with a short laugh, spit, and rinsed his mouth. "I said you sound like a serial killer saying stuff like that casually. Tell Nat I said an embarrassingly long time. Loving the sass this morning, though J."

"Thank you. I do try."

Peter stepped off of the elevator and felt his face stretch into a awed grin. When Natasha mentioned the training room before, he imagined a gym of sorts. He thought there would be dumbbells, exercise machines, maybe a few treadmills, and he was right for the most part, but those only took up maybe a quarter of the gym. Knowing Mr. Stark, Peter should have known to expect more.

In the far corner across from the more normal equipment there was what looked like a VR station with a moving floor. Peter saw similar set ups in higher end arcades, but unlike those, this one was large enough for probably three people to move around comfortably, and there didn't seem to be any kind of harness or stabilizing equipment. Multiple mechanical arms hung from the ceiling with either targets or what looked like boxing gloves attached. Peter could almost imagine Natasha in there, ducking and blocking hits, jabbing at the moving targets with natural grace and terrifying accuracy.

The center of the room was approximately the size of a football field and completely empty, but Peter could see that the floors were made up of thousands of individual squares, about the size of an average tile. He couldn't think what the purpose of that particular design choice could be off the top of his head, but he would try take a look at them if he got the chance before he left.

At the front of the room, where Peter was currently, was a small boxing ring, a line benches, a mini-first aid area, and punching bags.

Apparently Peter and Natasha weren't the only once who were up first thing in the morning to get some training in.

Steve turned away from the punching bag he had been training with as soon as Peter walked in, sweat glinting off his skin, his hands wrapped in red boxing wraps, but Peter had been too preoccupied by the rest of the gym to notice. Now that he did notice though, he suddenly wished he could turn around and go back to bed.

"You-are not Natasha," Peter observed, awkwardly.

Steve pulled out his remaining ear bud, and tucked it into the pocket of his basketball shorts.

"I definitely am not," he said, smiling in between labored breaths. "Sorry to disappoint."

"No you're no-you didn't-Good to see you, Captain. Looking real-real buff there."

Steve grinned at his flustered response. It was nice to be on the other side of the teasing for once. "Nat got a call from Clint so she's in the locker room. She said to tell you she'd only be a minute."

Peter nodded, and pretended to look around the room again so he wouldn't be tempted to watch Steve dry his hair off with the towel he'd hung on the rope of the boxing rings. Peter was surprised The Captain was acting so casual toward him. He would be lying if he said he didn't think that the Avengers had been avoiding him. He tried to convince himself that it was just his anxiety getting into his head but the truth was he wouldn't blame them if they had been avoiding him.

"I think it's a great idea, by the way, training with Natasha. You seem more than capable of taking care of yourself, but she is one of the best fighters I've ever seen. It never hurts to expand your knowledge."

"I think it'll make Mr. Stark feel better too. You on your own this morning?" Peter asked, rubbing his fingers nervously at his side.

Steve's eyes flicked down to them, but Peter didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, yeah. Bucky isn't as big on running as I am so I normally get up and run a few miles, and work on getting some of my extra energy out a bit before I go get him up."

"Wow. That's sounds like, really excessive," Peter laughed. Steve brushed the comment off, letting out a small chuckle in return. He sat down on the bench, picking up his towel and wrapping it around his neck before he started taking the wrap off of his hands.

"I've never been accused of being an underachiever." Steve said, amused.

"I can't even imagine what just getting up and running miles would feel like. I have to pretend running a mile kills me at school, so I don't really have a lot of opportunities to push myself."

"Really? Huh. I guess I didn't think about that."

“Yeah, it's actually kind of funny. You know, since I have to pretend like I can't climb the rope when I can literally crawl up walls and spend hours hanging from the ceiling," Peter mused.

"That-actually sound horribly uncomfortable," Steve said, trying to wrap his mind around Peter just chilling up on the ceiling. "But I guess to some people running 30 miles in the morning sounds pretty bad too."

"Oh! Mr. Stark said something about that.”

”About what exactly?”

He was telling me that you run an 'ungodly amount' and that you became friends with Sam after you smoked him on one of your morning runs in DC?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Stark loves that story. He says that only I would make friends with people stupid enough to run several miles in the sun before 8 AM."

Peter couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled from his throat. "Sorry, it's not funny. It's just that sounds just like something he'd say."

"Yeah." He looked Peter up and down, and his forehead creased in thought. "How are you, by the way? All healed up? I'd hope so if you're up and training with Natasha."

Steve got the impression that he must have said the wrong thing when the kid visibly shrunk, the temporary brightness he saw dimming back down to its subdued grey.

"Oh, yeah, no. I'm all good. No worries. Thanks."

Steve tried to remind himself about boundaries and pushing people, but the words came anyway.

"You sure? That was a pretty rough injury. If you want me to check on it, or if you want to talk about anything, you can."

"Oh no-uhm," Peter blushed. "My healing apparently rivals yours, according to Dr. Cho. It's barely even a pink line anymore."

Steve tried not to stare at Peter, but there was an intensity in the way he held himself that didn't quite feel right. He ran through the possibilities in his head. He could still be upset about the bomb. Most people probably would be, especially if it was their home that was destroyed. That didn't really seem to be it though. The kid dealt with shootings and robberies on a semi-results basis, and even if he did have mild PTSD from the incident, Whatever was bothering him now seemed to be directly connected to Steve somehow.

Maybe it was because Peter was embarrassed about having to be carried. Tony probably wouldn't be too happy about that either, if it were him, and the two did seem strikingly similar in a lot of ways. Steve hadn't really had the chance to talk to Peter since everything happened but- Wait.

"Me and Bucky did come check on you, you know when you were in the MedBay. We all did. You were sleeping pretty hard at first, then when we heard you woke up we just wanted to make sure you had some space. We all know what it's like to be over crowded."

Peter's eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Of course. You are a member of the team. I know that it maybe doesn't seem like it because of when you came into the picture, but when you're a team, you always have each other's backs. You saved my life, and everyone in that building's. We are all pretty proud of you. Did you think that we didn't care you were hurt?"

Peter knew he wasn't imagining the unpleasant guilty lilt in Steve's voice.

"No! I mean-no, that's not what-I was just thinking that, I don't know. I guess I was kind of worried you guys were mad at me, I guess," Peter admitted, his voice getting progressively quieter as he spoke.

"Mad? Why would we be mad?" Steve asked, genuinely confused.

Peter was saved from having to answer when Natasha stepped out of the locker room wearing black shorts and a Metallica tank top. She looked around the room, stopping in her tracks, eyes narrowing into a menacing glower when her eyes settled on Peter.

"Parker."

Peter's body went rigid for a moment at the coldness in her voice, then he visibly relaxed and adjusted his stance, surprisingly looking more dangerous in the loose pose, and curled his hands into fists.

"Romanoff," he spat back.

They stared at each other intensely, and Steve's brows furrowed and he tried to split his attention between the two of them, watching carefully for any sign that one of them was making their move. He was trying to calculate the odds of him being able to take on both of them at the same time until Peter's glare cracked, his lip twitching before breaking into a full smile.

"Dang it!"

Natasha laughed, and she clapped a hand on his shoulder, playfully. "Should've known better than to think you could keep a serious face longer than me. I'm a spy, паучок. It's my job."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me know how tough you feel when you can't switch the tv back over to DVR again."

Natasha gasped in mock pain, then pulled Peter into a loose headlock, ruffling up his already messy hair. "You menace. I could've gotten it if you gave me a minute."

Steve let out a relieved breath, shaking his head at the two of them. "Thank goodness. I honestly thought I was going to have to separate the spider kids. I was not liking my odds of making it out unscathed."

"Spider-Man," Peter muttered as Natasha spun around on him.

"I am not a child, Steve, I am older than you and I will bury you. And Sam, too, for putting that stupid nickname in your head to begin with."

"And I believe her," Peter added. "I know I just met you Cap, but as much as I'd love to see Nat in action, I'm not ready for a funeral. Ned hasn't even gotten an autograph yet."

Steve gave him a quizzical look.

"Oh. My best friend. He's the one who helped me hack into Stark Industries," Peter explained. "He's a big fan."

"It disturbs me how casually you talk about hacking into what is probably the most secure security system in the world," Steve said.

Peter shrugged, a small smile on his face. "We all have our strengths."

"Yes. One of which should be self-defense. Which is why we're here. Ready to get your butt kicked?" Natasha asked.

"Absolutely," Peter said, practically bouncing on his feet. "Kick away."

Natasha snorted. "Alright, then. We only have about an hour before you have to get ready for school. Let's make the most of it. Steve. I'll catch you for breakfast later?"

Steve nodded toward her, then gave Peter a quick smile. "Good luck. You'll need it, kid."

"Thanks. Enjoy the rest of your very extensive workout."

Peter took one last look at Steve's retreating back his eyes in no way checking out Steve’s perfect figure, as followed Natasha. She walked to a small panel in the wall of the center room and typed something in. He watched as the plates shifted, turning the floor from flat to a varied level terrain. There were small hills, inclines, steep drop offs, plateaus, and even a few rock-sized bumps.

"Whoa," Peter breathed.

"Yeah, pretty cool huh?" Natasha asked as they walked across.

"Cool doesn't even begin to describe it."

Peter stomped his feet down on one of the small hills, then bent down and ran his hand over it. He expected there to be little grooves between each of the squares where they came together, but the surface was smooth like metal, as if it had always been like this.

"Don't let Tony hear that. He will get a big head."

"Man, he deserves it. I'll never get used to how brilliant Mr. Stark is," Peter said. "I never even would have thought to consider training on personalized terrain."

"Yeah, he's pretty amazing, but Tony's obviously not the only person you think is brilliant," Natasha said, smirking.

Peter's brows furrowed. "Huh?"

"Oh nothing," Natasha said. "Just pointing out how hard you were flirting with the Cap."

Natasha popped the 'p' sound and Peter flushed, but tried not to let it show too much.

"If we are going to talk about flirting, should I ask how it is that you know what Mr. Stark's alarm sounds like?"

Natasha's brows lifted minutely in shock, and Peter took it as a victory.

"I can assure you it is not what you're thinking," Natasha said. “I remembered that little detail from when I worked under him.”

Peter grinned mischievously and she narrowed her eyes.

”Not like that Peter, you’re worse than Clint.”

"But you want to, right? I mean, you like Mr. Stark?"

"Are you trying to get out of sparring?" Natasha asked. "You know I'm only doing this because I want to make sure you're safe, right?"

"No, I just-you're right. Let's just- we can talk about it later," Peter said. "So where do we start?"

Natasha could see the slight disappointment on Peter's face, but even if she wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear, what good would it do? It felt like every time her and Tony were finally getting to a good place something happened. When she was Natalie, he and Pepper were still trying to hash out their issues, and when she found that she really was starting to care for Tony, Fury decided that she needed to come clean about being sent to watch over him. Then things got better after New York, but they could only be friends. Then when Tony and Pepper broke up and she stood by Tony during the Accords debate, she thought that maybe things would finally work out, once they could convince Steve to step down. They didn't, and she managed to hurt Tony once again. He may have forgiven her, but they were back where they started.

Natasha must've temporarily dropped her smooth expression, because Peter was watching her with a sad smile.

"He likes you. I know you are worried, but I don't think it would hurt anything if you let yourself like him too."

Natasha stared at him for a moment, wishing she could ask him if he really thought that, or if he thought that Tony could ever care about her the way she cares for him despite hurting him so many times before, but instead, she swallowed her questions and gave him a curt nod. "Okay, the first thing you are going to want to do is..."

****

Tony studied the screen in front of him, eyebrows pulled together and lips pressed together in a tight line. He could hear the whirring of the centrifuge behind him, but he paid it no mind as his hand danced across the monitor. His eyes scanned through the information, his frown deepening with each page. His eyes burned, heavy and bloodshot, but he couldn't sleep even if he tried. He hadn't, but that was beside the point. Bruce stood behind him, leaning against the long metal table, one leg bouncing nervously, looking just as sleep deprived as he.

"God, I think I need a drink."

"Bad right?" Bruce asked, crossing his arms. "Unlike anything I've seen."

Tony winced, not wanting to admit that two of the smartest people in any room had no idea what was going on, and spun on his heel to face Bruce. "Definitely not good, that's for sure. No chance this is just one of your 'Try to Stump Stark' things?"

Bruce let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "I wish. Have they ever worked before?"

Tony didn't respond, instead choosing to turn back to the monitors. In the two days Bruce has been back, he and Tony spent almost every waking moment in the lab working on sciencey stuff-which Tony usually enjoyed, even though it wasn't typically his brand of science. He did miss hanging out in his lab with Peter, though, especially since he was right in the middle of developing what he so lovingly referred to as the Iron Spider, a newer high tech version of Peter's suit.

No matter how bad he wished he could just pull the kid away from his mountain heap of make up work to lock themselves away to spend their remaining days building tech, what he and Bruce discovered couldn't be left alone. Tony heard about REI-01x, the strange serum they found plans for in one of the Hydra facilities Steve's team infiltrated a few months before, but he never dreamed the actual product would be this complex.

When he saw tetrodotoxin on May's blood test, his mind hadn't even put the two bits of information together. The chemical compounds in REI-01X weren't anything he hadn't seen, but they seemed to have created a reaction together that he didn't think was possible. The individual chemical compounds weren't binding together to create a new compound, they were intertwining and amorphous, constantly linking and disconnecting, with some kind of genetic marker spliced and integrated into their makeup in a way that seemed to be almost lifelike, like a virus, as opposed to a non-living compound. It was something Tony couldn't have imagined before he'd seen it, so out of the realm of possibility that the fact that it existed kind of scared him.

From the reports on the drive, the strain of REI-01X that May, and subsequently Peter, had been injected with was derived from tetrodotoxin, which they knew pretty much from the get go. What they hadn't known was that the toxin was designed to target mutates, rendering them completely paralyzed for, ideally, several hours. When exposed to Peter's blood, the serum seemed to latch on to it, seemingly attracted to the components of his DNA.

Obviously something wasn't right if Peter was still able to walk around, hell, even fight when injected. If they hadn't perfected the formula, or if Peter was somehow immune, he and Bruce weren't sure. What they did know was that the tetrodotoxin itself should have killed him, even with whatever the unknown spliced gene was lacing the other compounds around it, but it didn't. That of course brought them back to May.

If Peter was alive and kicking, it only made sense that May would have survived. When Tony told Natasha of that little detail over breakfast(more like dinner for him), it was with the intention that they could tell Peter the news together, as Tony had pretty much botched every emotional heart to heart to date with the kid, but Natasha shot that idea down immediately.

"Okay, and what do we tell him if we find her dead anyway?" She'd asked. "He is hopeful now, despite knowing the odds aren't great. Giving him information that we aren't even sure is true will do nothing but hurt him more if you're wrong."

Tony argued with her, but despite the dirty feeling it gave him, he listened to the advice. It was hard, seeing the kid come back to the tower Thursday night, looking exhausted after spending the last two nights hard at work, but he just kept reminding himself that the kid had enough on his plate to worry about without having to deal with the toxin and what the implications of him and his aunt's injections with it could mean.

"You know, if they are splicing genes of a mutate, it's possible we won't ever be able to crack this," Bruce said, thoughtfully, hovering over a warm, newly printed sheet of hypothetically relevant material. "Each mutate is just so different. I don't think I've ever seen two that were the exact same."

Tony hummed, plopping down on a computer chair, his head resting on the back of the chair. "Your lack of optimism is a major downer, you know that right, Jolly Green?"

"Jolly Green?" Bruce crooked his head at Tony, a flabbergasted look plastered to his face. "The green bean guy? Seriously? I almost miss Brucie Bear."

Tony spun side to side in his chair, side-eyeing Bruce with a smirk. "How could I possibly allow you to keep the cutesy name when you won't even meet my Spider child? Kind of rude actually. He's a big fan of yours. Not as big as your green guy, but pretty close."

Bruce sighed, pulling his glasses off to rub at his eyes, spinning the arm of his frames between two fingers. "I'm guessing we're just putting away the science stuff for now?"

"Come on. You're acting like I'm pulling your teeth or something. What's so bad about meeting him? Or are you sticking with your story that you're too busy, despite the fact that we've ran every possible test? Twice."

Bruce took a drink of his less-than-warm coffee to buy him a little time to think of an appropriate response. Bruce wasn't socially inept, nor was he dumb. He could tell how much avoiding meeting the kid bothered Tony, and that's why it was so hard to just tell the truth.

Bruce liked to think that out of everyone in the Avengers, he tended to stay relatively neutral when it came to arguments or policies. He attributed that, mostly, to the fact that he was an outside source. As much as he wasan Avenger, he equally wasn't. He was involved enough to know the politics and be affected by the team's decisions, but not so close that he couldn't see past his own position in the matter.

Bruce was even inclined to believe that if he'd been there when the Accords were first brought up, maybe there wouldn't be a major fracture in their group. And there was. A deep, ragged, ugly fracture. They were no longer a unit, The Avengers, but more of two subsets that worked together when needed and not a moment more. He didn't know what to do about it either. This Peter-Hydra-Kidnapping-Adoption conundrum seemed to only accentuate the divide; until it didn't.

Bruce'd seen the merit in both sides of the Peter argument, Tony having VidChatted him the moment Bruce caught service again to spill all the details, then Steve calling him with his groups assessment of the situation less than 12 hours later. Bruce was, as always, understanding of both their points, but ready to reserve his own opinion for when he met the kid in person.

That's was until the incident in Queens.

It seemed that after the in-depth briefing he was allowed to sit through of that day's events, everyone was now leaning toward trusting the kid. They agreed that even if there was some possibility that Peter could be working for Hydra, the likelihood was slim, and if he wanted to harm the Avengers, they believed that they would be strong enough together to take him down. It was clear that Peter saving their lives above his own was integral to the decision, and perhaps that was the reason why Bruce was, for the first time, feeling that maybe he wasn't going to be able to side with everyone else. Skewed opinions were worse than contradictory opinions.

"Not good with kids," Bruce lied. Well, partially lied. He wasn't bad with kids so much as lacked prolonged exposure to them.

"Not a normal kid," Tony shot back easily. "Unless you call being like us normal. Which, you know, we aren't. Honestly could you imagine? Us being the status quo? I mean," Tony let out a low whistle. "Pepper would go mad."

Bruce ignored him in lieu of crossing the lab to pull out some equipment. "When I developed Tetrodotoxin 2 to knock out the Other Guy, it was specially formulated to put me under. From the reading, it seems like they are wanting to keep sensation yet prolong full body paralysis."

Tony nodded, knowing Bruce was just regurgitating what they already knew to help his thoughts process.

"But only in Mutates. Not good at deflecting, but I digress," Tony added, resuming his semi-circle spinning, the chair softly creaking. He'd have to get that fixed. Maybe he'd take it with him when he left for the day.

"Right. Which means they are planning on using it in an area that could potentially have mutates and non mutates alike," Bruce continued, tapping a pen against his bottom lip.

"If we aren't going to talk about your completely unwarranted phobia of Peter, can we at least talk about something less depressing?" Tony whined.

"Like what? The fact that Steve and Bucky are back to hanging in the communal areas?"

Tony scoffed. "Gross. No."

The words spilled out quickly, but Bruce's lifted brow showed Tony he wasn't as convincing about his dislike of the Commando Couple as he wanted to be.

"It's a good thing."

"Yeah, well. They're still avoiding me. Which I don't blame them, but what's the point of hanging in there if they only do it when they know I'm not there? They could just stay on their own floors," Tony said.

"You're being dramatic. They aren't avoiding you. You have the weirdest biological clock ever, and honestly, I'm sure Steve is still worried about you being mad over Peter."

"No, how could I be? It's not his fault." Tony said. The implication that it was Tony's hung in the air. It was his fault he hadn't noticed Peter left. His fault he didn't leave when he did finally notice. His fault that Peter was bruised and bleeding, and his fault that Peter was targeted at all. Bruce could see it on his face and it bothered him.

They had talked about this over and over, but Tony had a martyr complex that rivaled the best of them.

"You know, they said you've changed a lot," Bruce said, offhandedly, pretending to be looking through some reports.

Tony scoffed. "When have you even had time to talk to anybody? You've been holed up in here with me for two days."

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"You aren't the only person I talk with regularly, Tony. Me and Steve talk at least twice a week."

Tony couldn't help his surprise at the admission. He wasn't sure why he was surprised. They were the Avengers. They worked with each other a lot, what with New York and a few other missions before Bruce went off world with Thor, and what better way to bond than over life or death situations? It still felt weird to hear, though.

"Steve said that you've been hanging out in the lab a lot, which is normal I guess, but you seem to be talking to Natasha, at least. He said you guys seem to be getting along and relying on each other a bit more."

Tony's eyes narrowed, a little annoyed to hear that they found it normal to talk about him. "Is this a shovel talk? If it is save it. I definitely am in no way in need of a shovel talk."

Bruce looked taken aback.

"Oh man. Tony. Do-Do you need the shovel talk?" He asked, his voice going up an octave.

"I just said-"

"I know what you said." Bruce said. "Wow. I definitely didn't expect that."

Tony sighed. "That's because it's unexpected. In that it is impossible and no way ever going to happen."

"That's not true. What makes you think-"

Tony held up a hand, shoving some papers in Bruce's hand. "Never mind. I take it back. Science it is."

"Tony."

"What were we talking about? JARVIS, what was the last thing Bruce said before I interrupted him to talk about normal-not depressing stuff?" Tony asked, giving Bruce a pointed glare at the 'not depressing' part.

"Doctor Banner was contemplating the idea of Hydra using REI-01X among mutates and non-mutates alike."

Tony clapped his hands together. "Right. That. Whaddaya think, big guy?"

Bruce stared at him for a long moment, trying to weigh the likelihood of Tony actually listening to him if he pressed the issue, then sighed.

"It would make sense for them to develop it that way. If they aim to find mutates, then having the serum only affect mutates would allow them to find their targets and incapacitate them in one move." Bruce paused. "The kid's aunt wasn't mutated, right?"

"No, not that I'm aware of. Peter turned into Spider-Man at Oscorp."

Bruce did a double-take, abandoning his original point. "Oscorp? Like Norman Osborn's facility?"

"Yeah, why?"

"There's no way they figured that stuff out. I looked over their papers a dozen different times. What they were trying to achieve it-it-," Bruce fumbled for words, looking equal parts annoyed and distressed. "They may have had something going theoretically but they didn't have all the puzzle pieces needed to bring anything into fruition. They kept trying to pull me into it, to at least nudge them in the right direction, but once I met Steve, I realized that super soldiers were best left in the single digits."

"That's what you think they were wanting with the spiders?" Tony asked. "Forgive me and my giant ego, but there's no way Oscorp has that kind of T͏e͏ch."

"You just said yourself they do. If Peter was enhanced in their facility, we could be looking at a much bigger problem that what we thought. Forget Hydra."

"Kid says that was definitely not on their agenda. From what he said it was a complete accident, and it was obviously something they haven't been able to recreate if they knew that it happened at all."

"He got super powers from a spider on accident?" Bruce asked, sounding as skeptical as Tony had a few days before.

"Yep."

Obviously there was more to the story there, but Bruce took Tony's answer as a clear dismissal and didn't press, despite the itch in his brain begging him to find more information.

"So what were they doing with the spiders if not trying to enhance people?" Bruce asked.

"Apparently webbing. Kid says they've been working years to achieve what a 15 year old Peter managed to pull off within a few weeks in a high school science lab. Makes me want to write them a letter. Or maybe hire a plane to write it in the sky."

"You're saying they wanted to make...webbing?" Bruce asked.

"Is there an echo in here? Yeah, for webbing. They want to use them for open wounds or something. It makes a good sealant and disintegrates on its own," Tony said, shrugging. "Doesn't really sound too sinister to me."

"Come on, Tony. You know better than anyone that seemingly good intentioned or not, technology can always be twisted."

Tony did know that. That's why no matter how many times Rhodey tried to convince Tony to market the Iron Man suit in the beginning, he never budged. The Merchant of Death was put to rest in the desert and he wasn't getting some miracle revival, not if Tony could help it.

Bruce pulled up the Oscorp web page and navigated his way through their research databases and Tony tinkered with one of his current projects while Bruce read. About 30 minutes later, Bruce sighed, but Tony couldn't tell if it was in frustration or relief

"The way their research proposals read, it seemed like they really did want to use it for medical purposes."

"Am I sensing a but?"

"But-" Bruce glared over his glasses, "We need to keep the kid's origin stuff close. I wouldn't even tell the rest of the team. Not that I don't trust them, but the fewer people who know, the better. If information like that got out, it could be sold to the highest bidder and into the wrong hands, and we would be hard pressed to find a way to keep everyone safe. I've seen what that kid can do, and that's only one of the projects Oscorp was working on."

"As mortifying a thought of having multiple Peter's running around is, I don't understand how aiding the cure of ailments or creating the newest and most innovative blood glucose meter translates to Super Soldiers or Spider kids."

Tony looked over Bruce's shoulder and spotted a familiar face on the computer monitor.

"Who's that?" He asked, pointing at the man.

Bruce followed his gaze and shrugged, then walked over and took a seat beside Tony. He swiping upward on the screen, sending the image popping up onto the holographic screen in front of them. "Dr. Curt Connors. He has been working for Oscorp for 17 years. He is an amputee, currently working on a project that isolates desirable genes in the hopes to-"

Bruce's voice trailed and he looked from the screen in front of him back to the screen that depicted the chemical breakdown of the REI-O1X.

"They are splicing genes?" Tony guessed. Connors. The man who was willing to try anything to regain what he'd lost. Tony was familiar with him, even if he hadn't had the pleasure of meeting the guy himself. "They are botching genes and trying to shove them into people, right?"

Bruce's frown was answer enough for him.

"Two splicing psychopaths shoving genes where they don't belong. Seems coincidences like that are occurring more and more lately," Tony said, more to himself than Bruce.

"We should have known Oscorp would be involved," Bruce said, twirling his glasses again. Bruce wasn't wrong there. Tony didn't want to think how long they'd overlooked something so obvious. "Hydra always recruits the brightest minds."

"Brightest corruptible minds. Unless you managed to get an invite that I didn't," Tony said.

"Can't say I did. They must be smarter than we give them credit for," Bruce smirked.

They stared at the screen again, tension building between them.

Finally, Tony sighed, feeling put-upon and annoyed. "Guess we need to gather the Super Secret Boy Band and the Sexy Triple Agent. I'm sure they'll be thrilled. Should I drink? I'm going to drink. Want some scotch?"

Tony walked over to a cabinet, pushing aside a few erlenmeyer and Florence flasks, causing them to clank together, then his hand reappeared with a top shelf bottle of bright auburn liquid Bruce hadn't even known was there. Tony looked around, searching the tables for something, then shrugged and grabbed two beakers.

Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes, but couldn't quite hide his amusement. He nodded and Tony poured him a beaker.

Bruce took a small drink and he let out a hiss as it burned down his throat. He could tell it was smooth, but he'd never been much of a drinker.

"So when did you sneak alcohol into my cabinet?"

*****

Signing the guardianship papers seemed to be a positive turning point for everyone. It was like a weight had been lifted off both Peter and Tony's shoulders, and it took a lot of the guess work out of what the expectation was moving forward. Steve and Bucky had talked about their concern with sending Peter to a home where they didn't know his identity after being stitched up in the MedBay, and even if they still weren't on the best terms with Tony, they were relieved to hear that Peter was willing to stay with him, though they didn't say it out loud.

After Peter's post-workout shower Thursday, he was surprised to see Sam had made his way into the communal kitchen with Natasha and Tony. It was weird seeing them just sitting around eating breakfast together, but knowing that at least two of the Steve-vengers weren't avoiding him was nice. He slid into his seat, and Tony gave him his plate so he could eat while getting picked on about how Natasha made him fall flat on his face before school.

School was another matter. Between trying to dodge Ned about how Tony liked his system (which Peter hadn't asked about) and their progress with May, MJ's increasingly pointed questions about his connection to Mr. Stark (a question he still hadn't asked Mr. Starkhow to field), and the constant hum of unease he felt at the presence of the strange white haired kid, he felt more stressed at school than ever. He could sense that his friends could see it on him too, but that only made them push harder, wanting him to talk about things he couldn't and hang out when he didn't even have time to breathe.

As awesome as getting to work out with Nat the last two days had been, Peter was feeling more than a little restless when he finally made it back to the Tower Friday afternoon. Mr. Stark hadn't been available to work on projects or really anything in two days. He seemingly only came out for snacks or drinks, like a little mouse hiding away in a hole. All he wanted to do was to climb into his suit and head back home. He could practically taste the Queens air as he swung building to building, but his daydreams came to a halt when he stepped off the elevator.

Natasha and Bucky were sitting at the kitchen table, laughing over a shared bowl of fruit, talking to each other in Russian between sniggers and bites, much to Peter's surprise. Tony, Rhodey and Pepper were sitting in the living room with a man he didn't recognize, and Steve and Sam were in the kitchen, Steve's arms piled high with various drinks and Sam munching on pretzels as he talked about buying a new pair of running shoes.

After being alone for the better part of two days, Peter kind of short-circuited at the sight of the full apartment, freezing up and flushing hot all at once. He could almost hear his uncle Ben at the back of his mind saying, "Shut your mouth, you're catching flies," and he clamped his jaw shut.

Tony seemed to spot him first, his smile creased eyes brightening his face.

"Peter! How was school? You hungry? Course you are. School food is the worst. I'll order in."

"Oh, okay. Cool. Thanks, Mr. Stark."

"Sure, kid. I have somebody I want you to meet, I know you've probably been waiting but somebody turned into a bit of a sour patch," Tony babbled. Peter was getting kind of used to that happening every once in a while, but Peter was a bit confused at the timing. Mr. Stark almost always rambled, but babbling was a bit different. Babbling was reserved for his nerves.

Mr. Stark must have realized Peter wasn't going to move on his own, so he grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him over to the couches himself, making Peter stumble a bit.

"Peter! You want a drink?" Steve called over. The rest of the gang turned to look at him, all of them greeting him amicably, seeming to be happy to see him. All of which just made him more uneasy. The last time they'd been together they couldn't start a conversation with him to save their lives. It was awkward, yeah, but it was expected. This? This was..what the hell?

"Uh-Hey guys. I-I think I'm good, Captain. I'll make me coffee in a few," he said.

Steve smiled and nodded, holding his gaze for just a fraction longer than Peter would have thought was normal making Peter feel even weirder, then started handing everyone else their drinks in the kitchen.

"Uhm-so what happened? It wasn't bad was it?"

Tony opened his mouth to answer, but Peter interrupted, his eyes lighting up in excitement.

"Oh! Are we having that movie night?"

Natasha hid her smirk behind her lemonade, and shot a look at Bucky. "See what I mean? They are just alike."

"God," Bucky lamented. "Another peppy person."

Peter flushed, feeling a bit stupid on top of his already unsettled feelings toward Sergeant Barnes and the Captain. Maybe he should pull them aside and apologize properly. That should go well. 'Hey sorry I risked all of our lives digging through dry wall like a deranged groundhog or something. Promise next time I won't sling shot you out of a building.'

"Movie night?" Tony asked, his nose scrunched up as if he took a whiff of something particularly disgusting. "Why would we do that?"

Steve stopped what he was doing, a small smile on his face. "Actually, movie night doesn't sound that bad. We should do it."

"Did I wake up in a a bad teen movie?" Tony asked Peter seriously, then gasped, lifting his voice into a valley girl voice. "Wait. Are we having a sleep over?"

Rhodey cuffed Mr. Stark in the back of the head. “Leave the kid alone, Tony, or you’re going to be having a sleepover outside. Right, Steve?”

Steve perked up, then shrugged. “Outside seems a bit harsh. Maybe we can lock him in the training room or something.”

"It's not awful to want to spend time together outside of work," Pepper interjected. "Me and James would be in, right?"

Pepper shot Sergeant Rhodes a look, and he agreed readily. "Yep. Sure. That absolutely sounds like something I would agree to all on my own and not at all while under duress."

Pepper rolled her eyes, cuffing him lightly on the arm.

"Seriously. I set up team seminars for our higher ups at least once a year, Tony," Pepper added. "Good relationships help with the flow of information and keeps everyone motivated."

"Exactly. It's just team building," Steve pressed, happily. "It could make us a more cohesive unit."

Natasha grinned even harder throwing her arms up palms open in the air and Peter glared at her. "Team building!"

"You think your hilarious," Peter deadpanned.

"Because I am." Steve looked between the two of them, confused, but Natasha just laughed. "Hit the nail on the head with that one. Clint would be proud."

"They aren't wrong. Besides, it wouldn't kill you to socialize a little, Tones," the man beside Rhodey said, standing up. Peter tensed again slightly, in spite of himself, but his Spidey senses weren't going off so he tried to force a smile when the man extended his hand out.

"I'm Bruce, by the way."

The name only took a moment to register. There would only be one Bruce in Tony Stark's living room. Peter practically latched onto Bruce's hand like a leech, and his internal damn broke.

"Dr. Banner! Oh my gosh. I can't believe I'm actually meeting you. My best friend, Ned, would be so jealous," Peter chirped excitedly. Bruce forced a smile, nodding along. "I mean-the first time I ever picked up one of your research papers on gamma radiation was when I was, I don't know, ten? To be honest, your one paper on Biochemical Marker Degradation was what really got me started toward Biochem. I was thinking of double majoring in that and Physics until I started messing around in Mr. Stark's lab but it would be so cool if we could sit and talk about your theory on..."

Everyone watched in amusement as Peter prattled on, hands moving animatedly like a big nervous ball of excitement. The person most shocked by the sudden wave of conversation was Bruce. When Tony said the kid was a fan, he didn't expect for the kid to be a fan of him. Bruce Banner him, that is. Sure, Stark said the kid was smart, but for him to have read is research and journals?

Bruce noticed Peter stopped talking and was looking at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked, dumbly. Tony slapped him on the shoulder, his face soft.

"He said you're brilliant. Basically, anyway. The rest was just kind of jibberish."

"I'm sorry, Peter, uhm, thank you. Really. I just-I-I wasn't expecting...well. Most people like the green guy," Bruce said, sheepishly.

Peter tilted his head to the side, seeming to be taking what Bruce said into heavy consideration. "Yeah. He's pretty cool, too, but I don't think he really cares much about biochemistry."

Bruce laughed, feeling lighter than he did before. "Yeah, can't say he does."

Tony felt himself warm at the two of them, eager and admittedly relieved. Bruce and Tony weren't as close as he and Rhodey, but their relationship was of a completely different type and he valued their relationship just as much. Where Rhodey was familiarity, being called out on bullshit and feeling at home, Bruce was acceptance, camaraderie and his confidante.

Peter looked up and saw everyone was staring at them, and blanched. "Oh man! Sorry. You-you guys were probably having a meeting or something, right? I should go. Should I go?"

Peter turned to Tony, unsure.

"Come on kid, you're already givin' me a headache," Bucky complained. "Ow!"

"What he means is you're fine. Sit down. You're part of this too," Natasha said, one side of her lip quirking up as Bucky rubbed his shin under the table.

"Yeah, we should probably get started soon. I'm not used to everyone being in my space for this long and it's weirding me out," Tony said.

"I told you we should do this on the communal floor," Pepper chastised.

"What are we getting started, exactly?" Peter asked.

"Avengers team meeting," Steve said as everyone took their seats. He walked to the living room with the others but stayed standing, moving to the other side of Mr. Stark and crossing his arms. "It's been a while but with the current circumstances, Tony and I decided it would be best to start them up again."

Peter couldn't hide his surprise at that. The meeting was partly Mr. Stark's idea?

"Right. So take a seat and we can get started. I have a compromised Falcon wing calling my name," Tony urged, pushing him to sit between Banner and Natasha. Peter wondered if he imagined the way Mr. Stark stared at the three of them for a moment before turning away.

"First off, I think the meeting will go the smoothest if we go over any new information we've acquired, then leave the questions for the end. If not we could spend the full hour asking questions and still never get everything out. That being said, Bruce and Tony apparently made a breakthrough with the blood samples. Tony?"

Mr. Stark stepped forward, glancing at Peter before explaining what he and Bruce found in the lab about Oscorp and Hydra both using the same method of splicing. Peter couldn't deny that he was thoroughly rocked by the revelation. It didn't make any sense. He knew that Oscorp was working on splicing, and he'd even been able to talk to Dr. Connors about his theories on replicating limb regeneration, but knowing that Hydra was more than likely involved in what made him Spider-Man made everything he knew feel convoluted. If Hydra was involved with Oscorp, could that be the reason they were after him? Did they somehow find out he was bitten by their spider?

"Peter, have you ever had blood tests done?" Bruce asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Uhm, no. Not since I changed. I-I've been trying to avoid the whole 'captured for human experimentation' thing."

Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Reading comics kind of helped me through the first two years of superheroing."

Bruce smirked. "They aren't too far from the mark. That's okay, though. It just means we start from scratch."

"Yeah, sorry. I tried to look at what I could at the school, but they don't exactly have the best equipment for that kind of thing," Peter admitted.

"It's fine, really. If it's alright with you, me and Tony talked about maybe testing your limitations for the records. If you haven't had any testing, we could add a few blood tests and then try to get a grasp of that metabolism I've heard so much about," Bruce said, feeling a bit guilty as he worked to convince the kid. As unsure as he was about the kid, the idea of getting him in a lab and dissecting his abilities was enough to make him want to lean on the kid's adoration of him. Just a little.

"Uhm-" Peter hesitated, staring down at the wood floors.

Steve could see his reluctance and cleared his throat.

"Testing out your abilities would truly be to your own benefit, Peter, but nobody is going to make you do anything you don't want. Dr. Cho said that trying to dose you with pain killers was difficult in the ward, though, and you said yourself Thursday morning that your healing factor rivaled mine. If we don't have that information, it's hard to treat you properly, and I can tell you first hand that not having the correct amount of pain medication is not ideal," Steve said, sympathetically.

Peter sighed, feeling trapped between a rock and a hard place. He really didn't want to think about what all kinds of tests they would come up with. He was already feeling a bit sick as it was.

"I get it. I do, it's just-Can we do it in Mr. Stark's lab?"

Mr. Stark straightened a bit, glancing over at Peter curiously.

"Uhm, I guess," Bruce said. "We could probably manage to pull off everything between there and the training room."

"Why?" Tony couldn't help but ask.

Peter flushed, but shook his head. He wasn't about to tell a room full of literal superheroes he didn't like hospitals, nor that being in the lab was probably made him feel more safe than he ever had. He'd lost his chance to admit his fears to Mr. Stark when he was in the MedBay.

"No reason."

Mr. Stark didn't seem to buy that, but they dropped it and moved on to the next subject.

Due to Peter being unable to come up with a full name for the white-haired kid, nobody had really been able to come up with anything about him yet. Mr. Stark offered to look into the school files, but Peter insisted that he would figure it out Monday. With that issue aside, they moved on to more pressing issues.

Apparently Natasha had been given the task of collecting information, which included reading up on May and, of course, she found nothing particularly interesting, just her nursing credentials and a parking ticket or two. Thankfully nobody brought up Ben or his parents, but he was sure it was because everybody probably already knew anything they could find on paper about Peter. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he supposed it was better than having to play 20 questions about all the dead people he knew.

Natasha also brought Hawkeye up to speed on the Avenger's latest recruit (and all his baggage) sometime in the last few days and he seemed to have been doing recon of his own, putting his ear to the ground in hopes of hearing something about Hydra.

"I've already debriefed his findings to the Steve, but for those of you who haven't heard, there appears to be an active cell located in Belgium. He managed to track one of the undercover members under Pierce that fled the scene at the Triskelion back to where they seem to be laying low," Natasha explained.

"Seem to be?" Rhodey asked.

"Clint said their base of operations isn't exactly visible," Natasha admitted.

"Are you going to make us ask what that means, or are you going to indulge us?" Sam asked. "We talking mountains? Invisibility cloaks? Are we going guns blazing against Hogwarts?"

Peter snorted, shaking his head and Steve knew he was missing something. Again.

Natasha sighed. "I'm not sure. He said that he's watched people walk in and out of nowhere. He would investigate, but without backup or the means to take them down, it would only hurt our chances of getting information. They would be gone the first sign of being compromised."

"Which is why we are leaving Sunday morning. Bruce, Tony, and Rhodey will stay behind and work on learning more about Peter's abilities and continue looking into Oscorp, while the rest of us suit up to infiltrate the Hydra cell," Steve said.

"Wait, you guys are leaving? For how long?" Peter blurted. His face flushed as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and he swallowed heavily. "I mean, I just started training with Nat and I just figured..."

Natasha gave him a knowing look and put a hand on his knee.

"It will be okay, паук. You don't have to worry about us. We've done this kind of thing a lot."

"It should only be a week or two, max," Bucky added. "We can't rush, but we don't ever wanna stay longer than we have to."

Peter shrunk a bit at the estimation, but didn't argue. He looked to Mr. Stark, who didn't seem happy at the timeline either. Natasha was looking down at her intertwined hands, a blank expression on her face.

"Besides, it's time I kick your ass in the training room anyway," Rhodey cut in. "If you're going to be my nephew I need to make sure you're up to par."

"Sorry, bud, but if you think you're going to be the one kicking ass, you are delusional. I know I wouldn't want to have to go up against the kid," Tony argued, sending Peter a quick wink. Peter couldn't hold back a smile, despite himself. They argued back and forth playfully until the Captain managed to come between them.

"Anyway, I think we all need to prepare for the next few days, so if anyone has any questions, let's get them out there so we can eat and get to work," Steve said, diligently veering everyone back on track. There were only a few questions, but Peter only half payed attention, too busy trying to go over everything in his head.

"Alright. If anybody wants to join, we are going to order pizza down on the communal floor," Steve said, wrapping up the meeting. "If not, don't hesitate to contact me or Tony if you have any new information or questions."

Bucky was off the couch before Steve could even finish, and Sam followed him to the elevator. The Captain pulled Tony to the side and Bruce muttered something about making a phone call before walking out of the room.

"You going to eat pizza?" Natasha asked.

"I don't know. Probably. How could I turn down pizza?" 

Peter tried to sound lighthearted, but he really didn't want Natasha to leave. With Mr. Stark being so busy the last two days, Rhodey and Pepper staying busy with SI and the Air Force, and the other Avengers leaving, he couldn't imagine not having her around for god knows how long.

Natasha searched his face, and apparently was convinced by whatever look was on his face. "Okay. I'll see you downstairs in five then?"

Peter nodded then watched as she left, just standing in the living room for a minute. Mr. Stark was talking quietly to Cap in the far corner of the room, and he wondered if it was intentional that he was unable to hear them.

"It'll be okay," Rhodey said from behind him.

"Sergeant Rhodes. Sorry. I thought you went down with Pepper."

"Rhodey, Peter. Just Rhodey. And no, I gotta talk to Tony, but Pepper was too anxious to get to the pizza to wait. I blame it on all those salads she eats," he laughed, then sobered some. "Look kid. I know it sucks to be sidelined. It took a big chunk off of mine and Pep's life when they benched me the first time after Germany. I think I may have driven Tony a bit crazy too. Sometimes you just have to see where you're the most needed and be there, even if it's not where you want to be."

"Yeah," Peter said, thinking his words over carefully. "I understand why they have to leave and why we need to stay, but it doesn't make it easier. Especially when I don't even have my suit to patrol."

Rhodey grinned, mischievously. "Don't tell Tony I said so, but I'm pretty sure he's got something planned to help you with that."

Peter looked at him confused. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see. Just trust me. In the meantime, I really will train with you if you want. I'm no ex-assassin or anything but I'm sure I can keep you on your toes."

Peter smiled, noticing the grin on Tony's face over Rhodey's shoulder as he walked over to them. Peter nodded, excitedly. "Yeah. Sure. You're on."

"We will be just fine, won't we Pete?" Mr Stark said as he and Steve joined them. "We've got plenty of projects to keep us busy. Should be ready to test your spider guy out in a day or two right?"

"You're coming back to the lab?"

"Yep. Can't let you stay lazing about forever. Besides, Bruce can only make me retest so many times before I start threatening to poke him with sharp sticks to entertain myself."

Steve rolled his eyes. "A lack of boredom never stopped you before."

"True. That was before I knew him, though," Tony said thoughtfully.

"How do I not know this story?" Rhodey asked.

"While you guys talk about that, do you mind if I steal Peter a minute?"

Tony tightened his grip on Peter's shoulder and looked to Peter, his expression clearly asking if Peter was okay with that. Peter bit the inside of his cheek, and gave him a curt nod.

"Sure. Just keep him away from bug spray and aluminum wrap. He likes to catch the microwave on fire in his free time."

Peter sighed heavily. "One time, Mr. Stark. It was ONE TIME. Plus I yeeted it into the sink before the alarms could go off, so I call it a win."

"Yeeted?" Steve asked.

"Vine. Add it to the list, you and the seniors at the center can enjoy it together," Tony said, waving it off. Steve dropped his hands to his sides in quiet irritation and Tony turned to Peter. "I'll see you downstairs in a few. I refuse to look like a pizza hoarder and you'd be surprised how many slices the others can put away. I swear Sam has an unhinged jaw the way he shovels down food."

He faked a shudder then he and Rhodey headed to the elevator. Peter watched them go then turned to Steve with a smirk.

"The list?" Peter asked. "What's that about?"

Steve sighed, then pulled out a small notepad, handing it over to Peter.

"Are these thing you haven't tried?" Peter asked, incredulous. "Oh my god. No Korean BBQ? And you haven't seen Star Wars?"

"Not yet. I haven't gotten around to it yet," Steve said sheepishly.

"Yeah, no. That's not going to work. Even if everyone else thinks it's stupid, we are having a movie night, and we're fixing this the second you get back!"

Steve smiled at his reverence.

"That good?"

"It's legendary! You're going to love it. It's got action, romance, and the mother of all plot twists. Oh and me and Ned noticed you and Luke actually have a little bit in common, even if you're infinitely more badass than him." Peter rambled. "Sorry, I know you were wanting to talk. I'll shut up now. What's up?"

Steve shook his head to clear it, ignoring the implication that Peter discussed him with his friend. "I was just wanting to make sure that you were okay with everything we discussed tonight. I couldn't help but notice that you were distressed at the mention of Oscorp."

"I was just surprised, is all."

Steve waited and Peter shied away from his expectant gaze.

"It's just-I don't know if you knew this but Oscorp has made a pretty big percentage of the more impressive medical advancements the last decade," Peter said, frowning to himself. "At first I thought it was cool, and I hoped that maybe one day I'd be able to help people the way they have, but now the thought of them advancing so quickly kind of scares me, if I'm honest."

"It scares you? I'm not sure I understand."

Peter looked up at Steve, a hard glint in his eye. "I'm sure you know this already, but I learned in history class that Nazi's did a lot of super awful experiments to gain ground in the medical field during the war. When you said Hydra used to work along side them, it begged the question.."

"You're worried Hydra has Oscorp performing illegal experiments?"

Steve has to force back his thoughts, not wanting to get lost in a sea of gruesome memories of empty eyed men he and his men were too late to save, bodies mangled and broken enough to make his stomach turn in spite of the super soldier serum.

"How many people have died right under my nose? How many were probably tortured? In my city?" The words came out unsteady with the slight tightening of Peter's throat, and Peter ached with shame, not only for his failings, but for voicing his problems to the man who gave up everything for his country.

Steve could see the swirling emotions in Peter's downcast eyes and Steve felt his chest swell with a fierce protectiveness. He wasn't sure what about the kid made him feel this way, but for now, the reason didn't matter.

"Hydra is one of the most vastly spread terrorist groups to ever exist. They aren't like anything you've ever had to fight before. They're smart enough to still be around even after the commandos paved their way through all of their known bases. It's been over 70 years and we are still surprised at how deep their influence goes. It would be easy to get discouraged and wonder if we will ever fully succeed or if we are just prolonging the inevitable, but I know that's not who you are, because I've seen the look in your eye when you are determined. We can't ever be sure, but we can fight, so we will."

Peter's eyes were wide by the time Steve finished, and his face slowly stretched into a grin. "Did I just get a personal Captain America inspirational speech? What even is my life anymore."

Steve shook his head fondly. "You're a kid with spider powers. Is this really the weirdest part of your life?"

Peter pretended to think on it. "Probably not. But it's definitely on the list of coolest, probably right behind helping Tony Stark modify his repulsers and getting to hold your shield."

Steve blushed a little and it had Peter thinking back to Natasha's teasing two days before. Was he flirting with Captain America? Is this flirting? This felt different than talking to MJ. Good different. God. This was so confusing. 

"Pretty sure you webbed it out of my hand so I can see how that one made it on there. Even if we were fighting in the middle of it. Sorry about that again."

"Are you kidding? I'm pretty sure two years ago I would've paid to let Captain America drop a truck on me. Guess I'm just living the dream," he said, keeping a teasing tone, but dropping his voice slightly, trying to ignore the part of his brain telling him he sounded ridiculous.

Steve's blush brightened, and Peter could tell he was struggling with what to say.

"Peter, Captain Rogers, Sir is asking if you are intending to make it to dinner tonight."

"Crap. He's going to kill me. Uh. Pizza?" Peter asked, hopefully.

Steve swallowed and nodded. "Sure. I'm starving."

******

Natasha, Sam, Steve and Bucky (who were apparently fed up with Peter using their formal titles all the time) all had dinner with Peter, Mr. Stark, Rhodey and Dr. Banner Saturday night. It was interesting to see all of them interact together outside of a meeting. Peter wondered if this is what the Avengers had been like before The Accords; Natasha and Sam picking on and teasing the others, Tony helping them out between science talk with Dr. Banner and Peter. Steve and Bucky telling old stories about the war and everyone else pitching in little details about New York and smaller individual fights. Peter almost spit out his drink when he heard Bruce whipped Loki around like a rag doll.

Rhodey pitched in toward the end, telling some embarrassing stories about Mr. Stark, which Peter was sure was for his benefit, and overall, he could see that it was kind of like a family. Sure, there was some hesitance in the beginning of the meal, and Peter felt the meal itself was a bit mildly foreboding, knowing that they were all going to leave on a dangerous mission, but over all, yeah. They were each other's big dysfunctional family.

Peter couldn't help but think about May, and he was more relieved than ever that she hadn't known his identity. Being on the other side and having to watch people you care about risk their lives was far from easy. He could see it on Tony and Dr. Banner's face when they all said goodnight and went to bed that they wouldn't be sleeping well until the group got back.

Watching them all leave the next morning was even harder than he thought. He almost wished he would've hidden away like he knew Mr. Stark was doing, but he couldn't bring himself to. He knew what it was like to lose people unexpectedly and he wasn't going to risk a single minute of time he had with them before they left.

Peter made his goodbyes to Sam, Bucky and Steve short and sweet, despite wishing he could have talked a bit more to Steve before he left. It felt like they had just started talking, maybe even moving toward being friends, but the vagueness of their relationship made it feel unstable, like it could disappear at any moment, and Peter wasn't sure pushing himself on to the guy would help the matter.

Natasha leaving was hard. He wasn't expecting Natasha to hug him, but in retrospect, he wasn't sure why he wasn't. They'd only known each other a week, but he already felt as close to her as he felt to MJ. She was warm and soft, and despite how small she was against him, she felt safe. Her rose scented hair kept blowing in his face with the rush of air from the Quinjet but he couldn't even bring himself to care. He didn't realize how much he would miss her until he didn't want to step out of her arms, but he had to.

Then they were gone.

Peter spent most of Sunday keeping himself busy in Mr. Stark's workshop, the two of them seemingly relieved to be back in there working with their hands. Mr. Stark babbled a lot as he worked, and Peter ate it up, hanging on every word. He didn't want to admit how much he missed hearing him talk over the last three days.

Dr. Banner eventually showed up and Peter spent some time showing him what he was working on, and Dr. Banner even invited him to spend a day in his own personal lab. Mr. Stark seemed shocked by that, but Peter could understand why. Dr. Banner wasn't known for being super social. He and Mr. Stark were pretty different in that respect. 

Too soon, it was Monday again, and not even Mr. Stark's promise to help him piece together the last of the Spidey-Cam was enough to lift his spirits.

"What's the matter Peter? You've barely touched your...meatloaf? Salisbury steak? What is that supposed to be?" Ned shot a questioning look to MJ, who just shrugged and shoved another bite in her mouth. "Whatever. You're not eating. You always eat."

"You know you sound like a mom right? Disturbingly like a mom. As in, I'm pretty sure my mom has used those exact lines on me," MJ said.

"What? No I don't," Ned argued, then his confidence faltered. "Do I?"

"A little," Peter admitted. "But you're one of those sexy moms."

MJ snorted. "One of the sexy moms?" 

Peter nodded, seriously. "The sexiest."

"Aw. Thanks, Peter," Ned said, happily. "But you really didn't answer my question."

Peter shrugged. "You know that frog we dissected in 7th grade?"

Ned looked confused but nodded.

"I wish I was that frog."

Ned laughed. "Mood. If I was a tree, I'd want people to cut me down."

"If I had a universal remote, the first button I'd push it the power button for my life."

"Okay, okay stop. As much as I appreciate your morbid coping mechanisms, how about we try the adult thing and talk about our problems?" MJ offered.

Ned and Peter exchanges glances, then burst out laughing.

"Talking about our problems? Sounds fake, but ok," Peter said.

"I hate when you guys talk in meme."

"Talking in meme is awesome. You just don't appreciate art," Ned said, unwrapping his still steaming leftovers. "It probably would help though, Peter. Talking to somebody, or whatever. I mean I'm not a therapist and I don't know about how well I can relate with your seriously jacked up life problems-"

"Thanks, Ned."

"-but maybe getting it out in the open and putting your thoughts into words would help."

"That's surprisingly mature of you to say, Nedward," MJ said, approvingly.

"What can I say? My brilliance isn't solely utilized in tech. It knows no bounds."

"Dude, I love the confidence hat. My new favorite look on you," Peter said, poking at the soggy cheese stick on his plate, enjoying the way it wiggled slightly like jello. "I wish you talked about yourself like that every day."

Peter reached across the table for a first bump. "Man in the chair, tech extraordinaire!"

"You are super chipper today. It's weirding me out," MJ said. "You said you want to die, but you're being super nice. I don't get the mixed signals."

Ned tilted his head, and took a bite of his pasta. "You're right. That is weird."

Peter forced himself to smile. "I just want you guys to know I care about you."

_Just in case._

MJ and Ned both seemed to understand the sentiment and decided to lighten up the conversation again. Michelle told them about her mom’s plans for the winter break, and how she wished that she was going to get to spend time with the two of them on Christmas like they had the year before. Peter didn’t allow his mind to think about Christmas, or family, or the Avengers. He couldn’t keep letting everything get him down. 

Which, of course, is when Peter felt his Spidey-Sense slowly getting stronger. He tried to act casual, his hands clenched into fists, but it took everything in him not to turn and face the imminent threat. 

"Hey Parker," Flash said, from behind him. Peter turned around to see Flash holding papers in his hand, Sarah and a very nervous white haired guy flanking him on either side.

“Flash,” Peter greeted.

“Come on, Flash. I thought you were going to lay off for a while,” MJ chastised, sounding tired.

“How could I when I find out such interesting stuff about him? I didn’t know you swung that way, Parker.”

Peter’s could just barely read the words on the paper at the angle Flash was holding them, but even the few he saw was more than he wanted anyone to read. His face drained of color, his eyes flicking to MJ, panic sitting on his chest. _No, no, no, no._

Flash lifted the papers and read off the first few searches _._

“‘How to Know if You are Gay or Bi.’ ‘When is Love Platonic or Romantic.’ ‘How to Tell Your Friends You’re Gay.’” Flash dropped the stack of papers on the table. “Looks like somebody really wanted to make sure your secret got out. They put over a hundred copies of your search history in my locker.”

Peter couldn’t make his mouth work. There was no way anyone should have been able to access his history. He encrypted his StarkPhone himself. His face reddened as his mind tried to conjure up every website he could think of accessing the last few weeks. 

MJ stood up, her eyes blazing in anger, but her voice was still unnervingly even. “Does it ever bother you how big of a fucking tool you are? What, somebody put those in your locker and you decide to go along with it, do their dirty work? That means something is wrong with you, Eugene, not Peter.”

“I told you this was a bad idea, Flash,” the white haired guy said, quietly, his eyebrows furrowed. “Outing people is really messed up.”

“Shut up,” Flash hissed. “Michelle is just mad that her lover boy isn’t so enraptured with her as she thought.”

MJ scoffed. “I’ve been best friends with Peter a year. You think I didn’t know he was gay? The difference between you and me is I believe in letting people make the decision to come out when they’re comfortable. You know, because I’m not scum.”

Peter honestly was shocked. Was MJ being serious, or was she just saying that to make Flash mad? Surely she couldn’t have known before Peter himself did, right?

“Is there a problem over here?”

The Chemistry teacher, Mrs. Clifton, was standing across the aisle, a stern but concerned expression on her face. While Flash was distracted, Peter lunged for the papers with inhuman speed and grace, pulling them behind his back and tearing the whole stack of papers in half with ease.

“No, no problem here,” the white haired guy said, uneasily.

Ned’s eyes bulged as he watched Peter tear the papers, and shook his head, trying to warn him not to do stupid stuff like that with people around but once he started, he couldn’t stop.

“Just the usual, Mrs. C. Flash being Flash,” MJ said. That seemed to only make Mrs. Clifton more suspicious.

“Well, Mr. Thompson, why don’t you Sarah and Steven go _be you_ back at your table, so I don’t have to hover like a paranoid helicopter, hm?”

Flash scowled but relented, the two others following him back to his table. The white-haired guy, Steven, looked back at their table one more time before sitting down, his back to them.

“Peter?”

Peter sighed, plopping down onto the bench and stared down at the pile of shredded paper.

“Pete?” Ned tried again. “It’s okay, really. I mean, I know it isn’t, it’s a total invasion of privacy, but I mean nobody thinks of you any different. You basically already told everyone that you liked both, right? This isn’t much different.”

“It is different though. To Peter,” MJ said, sadly. “Or else he would have told us already.”

Peter grimaced guiltily.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean that you weren’t ready, and Flash should have respected that, no matter how obvious or otherwise it was. Now that it’s out though, you should know that we are here for you, Peter. Even though your life really does suck.”

Peter took a deep breath, and sighed. “It do be like that sometimes.”

“It do,” MJ answered.

The three of them smiled at each other, and much to Peter’s surprise, he felt a little lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a lot of this story planned out/already written, but I’m starting to think that either the story is going to be close to 200k words, or I need to split it into two separate works. 😦 I’m not sure which you guys would prefer. Or do you think I should just stop trying to wean into the big action scenes and just dive in? I want this to be realistically paced and I’m having a hard time cutting things out.


	7. Steve is a Gryffindor, Fight Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spidey-Cam!  
> Bruce is a softie.  
> Do I smell jealousy? Hm.  
> Clint is literally 12. (Figuratively, but come on. Literally)  
> STEVEN. (Intense side-eye)  
> They see me {pat}rolin’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited! Have fun picking through all my errors😘
> 
> DIALOGUE HEAVY. I’m sorry.

TUESDAY NIGHT 

Peter clicked the last few pieces of the Spidey-Cam into place, again, turning it over in his hand to inspect all of the joints and hinges before setting it upside down on the table to open the small hatch on the underside of its abdomen. It seemed that avoiding his problems in the form of working with his hands had some benefit, as finishing his Spidey-Cam should've taken a full day at least, but was ready for testing in less than five hours thanks to his diligent work on Monday. 

This was going to be the third test run of the day, test one right after school having resulted in a very sad and unimpressive range of motion, with stilted movements and no balance. Mr. Stark was irritatingly silent despite the smug "I know something you don't know" look on his face, but eventually Peter was able to figure out that the problem's origin was less about the design or material and more about the distribution of weight, a problem he hadn't considered previously because it was so lightweight it didn't seem pertinent. It took Peter almost three hours to re-evaluate his approach and come up with a better design, but he managed it. 

The second try was better, until something seriously malfunctioned, causing his little spider to spin around in circles, it's legs bending and shaking uncontrollably, knocking equiptement off the table. The loud clanging of metal pieces crashing to the floor resonated through the lab, and a high pitched hissing emanated from the spider like a scream. Peter only barely managed to catch it before it tweaked itself off the table, but in his haste, he managed to damage one of the legs. Sometimes being super strong was annoying, but in this instance is was more than a little inconvenient. He held it up, looking devastated as the one leg swayed sadly back and forth, making a soft creaking noise. 

Dum-E rolled over, it's claw quirking to the side in concern. 

Peter sighed, and patted the robot softly. "It's okay, buddy."

"Guessing that wasn't in the programming?" Mr. Stark asked, innocently from his chair across the room. "Can't see how that particular setting would be helpful, but hey. You do you."

The lab door opened just as Peter finished rechecking the inner mechanisms of the abdomen for any damage. Bruce was carrying two large Mexican food take out bags in his arms, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

"Thought you guys might want some dinner," he said, putting the bags on the back table. "You fix that bug?" Peter quirked his head in question and Bruce looked guiltily at Mr. Stark. "Tony-ah, sent me the footage. Pretty brutal."

"Wha-Come on. Seriously?" Peter stammered. He shifted, and crossed his arms indignantly. "Mr. Stark. Please tell me you didn't send that to everybody."

"Of course not."

"Thank god," Peter muttered, turning his attention back to the Spidey-Cam. 

"I'm sure Natasha will show the others. Sending it to each of them is a bit overkill."

Peter closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "You are such a jerk."

"Doesn't really help does it? The breathing thing," Dr. Banner quipped, unwrapping the top of his burrito and taking a bite. "I never thought so either."

"Yeah, not really," he admitted, then shut the latch. "Think I can squeeze in a test run before the food gets cold?"

Dum-E made an excited chirping noise, rolling back and forth.

"It's called dinner and a show, Pete," Mr. Stark said, walking over to lean against the table by Dr. Banner. Dr. Banner handed Mr. Stark a plate of enchiladas without even looking, his eyes locked curiously on the Spidey-Cam. "Feel free to screw up again. It's no fun without a little drama. Just don't burn the place down, I've grown fond of it."

Peter stopped short at the last part, then looked suspiciously between the Spidey-cam and Mr. Stark. Peter spent a long time putting him together. Like, a really long time. He tapped his finger anxiously on the underside of the spider’s body. 

"Should I-" he paused again, trying to think of the best wording. "Is there a reason you think it'll catch on fire?"

Mr. Stark shrugged vaguely. "Can't learn if you don't figure these things out on your own, kid."

Peter looked painfully at his Spidey-Cam. He already checked everything. Twice. There shouldn't be anything left to fix, really. It would be fine. Yeah. Maybe he could recheck the power source. Or maybe he should just take it apart and start over, just to be safe. 

Tony couldn't help the mischievous smile as Peter's face morphed from excitement, to concern, to resignation, then determination. The spider was fine as far as he could see, but the kid didn’t need to know that. Lessons you learn yourself tend to stick with you longer than if they are taught. 

"Nat will poke your eye out if she comes back and I'm dead," Peter warned after some rough contemplation. 

Mr. Stark seemed unperturbed by the threat.

"Great. Me and Fury will start a Pirate club. On Wednesday's we'll watch Sparrow."

Bruce chuckled behind his burrito, shaking his head. "Tony. God."

Peter put the spider on the table and turned his wrist to look at the face of his control watch. He hesitantly swiped the screen, pressing the power button. The spider's legs jumped to attention and straitened beneath it, and it scurried a few steps with fluid, purposeful motions before it stopped. Peter's enhance hearing could pick up the slight sound of a camera zooming into focus. 

"Hey buddy," Peter crooned shakily. The spider turned toward him, it's little legs clicking against the table. Peter's eyes shot to Mr. Stark excitedly. 

Tony waved him to continue, watching raptly. 

"What do-what do-what should I say?"

Mr. Stark shrugged, his "figure it out" look far less irritating with Peter’s overwhelming excitement to drown it out. 

"Uhm..Goggles, I need you to find Mr. Stark."

The Spider stiffened, and Peter's breath caught in his throat. He took half a step back, preparing for the little guy to malfunction, but then the he skittered across the table, leaping off and landing on the floor as easily as breathing, then planted itself in front of Mr. Stark, chirping quietly. 

The breath Peter had been holding came out in a surprised, almost manic laugh. "He did it! Mr. Stark, he did it, he found you! Come here, Goggles!" 

The spider crawled up the leg of the table with ease, and Peter held his hand out so the Spider could hop into it. "Good boy, Goggles! You know, I've always wanted a dog."

Tony grinned proudly at Peter, who was nuzzling the little piece of tech under his chin. "Don't get too excited, kid. You still need to test out the rest of his functions."

"Yeah, right. I know. I'm just-" Peter huffed in disbelief. 

Tony understood the feeling well. After weeks of working on Dum-E, the happiness he felt when he finally started working was unlike anything he’d ever felt. It was what pushed him to live the life he did. Dum-E was the start of everything.

"Excited?” He asked. “You should be. You did great, kid.”

Peter welled up with pride and nodded to his guardian, feeling happier than he could ever remember, all thoughts of Aunt May and Hydra and crazy evil scientists temporarily purged from his mind. Peter joined the boys for dinner then spent the rest of the afternoon testing Goggles' camera and tracking functions, taking notes on anything he thought needed work, or what he could add to improve in the future. 

Around 10:30, Bruce and Tony finished up the side project Steve had them working on while he was gone, leaving them free to do whatever they wanted. Tony was polishing up his newest Iron Man suit, and Bruce debated going back to his lab, but walked to the stool beside Peter instead, trying not to show how awkward he felt. 

"Mind if I sit?" Bruce asked. "You don't have to stop. I'm just kind of curious."

Peter's eyes widened. "Uh, no. Go ahead."

Bruce nodded, taking a seat. He watched Peter tinker for a minute, trying to collect his thoughts. As much as he didn't like to admit it, the kid seemed harmless. Well, as harmless as a genetically enhanced spider kid could be, anyway. He wouldn't let his guard down completely, probably ever, but it couldn't hurt to at least try to get along with him if he was going to be on the team. 

"So what's up with Goggles? Pretty weird name for a Spider," Dr. Banner said, conversationally. 

Peter shrugged with one shoulder, flushing as he slipped, almost dropping the piece of wire he was soldering. "Well, I was going to name him Aragog, you know, from Harry Potter, but it was kind of a mouthful. Plus, look at his little eyes. The cameras makes them look kind of like goggles, right?""

Peter held out the decommissioned spider and Bruce took it gingerly in his hands, inspecting it's pieces critically. The spider was cold, which he would have expectedif he'd thought about it, but as lifelike as it seemed he was surprised to find it wasn't warm. 

"Tony help you design this?"

Peter shook his head. "I designed it, but Mr. Stark made me take it more seriously."

"What do you mean by that?" Bruce asked. 

"He pushed me to think of more uses for him. I was just playing with the idea when I designed it. For selfies." Peter mimicked Mr. Stark's voice then frowned, his forehead creasing. "I didn't think I'd ever really get the chance to make it."

Bruce gave him a sympathetic smile. "Not without taking out more than a few undeserving toasters, right?"

"Right. It's not like million dollar tech is just laying around."

"I don't know. You seem bright. You could probably get hired by your choice of company when you graduate college."

Peter looked over at Tony, who was still polishing away, lost in his own world. College. Was that even in the cards for him anymore? With what money? With what car? With what apartment paid for with what job? He couldn't expect all of that from Mr. Stark, or anyone, no matter how much money they had. 

He forced a small smile 

"Yeah. Maybe."

Peter went back to work and Bruce's face scrunched up into a grimace. 

"Listen.." Bruce started, following Peter's gaze to look at Tony. He lowered his voice. "I think it's only right that I tell you that I know about your connection to Oscorp."

Peter stiffened visibly, his eyes darting to Mr. Stark. 

"I'm not saying this to scare you or-or threaten you, I just-Tony just said there was an accident and that's all I really know but I wanted you to know that there are some of us who didn't choose this life. Tony and Steve, hell even Sam and Rhodey wanted this. They knew the risk and would choose it a hundred times over. Their life is better because of that choice. For those of us like me and Nat and Bucky who were kind of thrown into it, it's not as easy. The others may not admit it, but at night, after everything is said and done, there's not one of us that can't help but question if our lives would have been better; if what we've been through is worth all that we've saved. With your aunt and everything-I guess I just want you to know you can talk to us."

Peter put Goggles down on the table, his mind racing for an appropriate response. His first impulse was to just say thank you and hopefully move on with the conversation, but he could tell that Dr. Banner was really putting himself out there, and it didn't feel right to brush him off that way. He ran his fingers over the smooth metal of Googles' back. 

"You know about my Uncle?" He asked. Dr. Banner hesitated, but ultimately nodded, looking embarrassed. 

"It’s okay. I figured you all did,” Peter admitted. 

“Sorry. Privacy isn’t a big thing around here. If it makes you feel any better, we all have baggage. Some of ours is just a bit heavier than others,” Bruce said. 

Peter nodded, picking Goggles back up, hoping that focusing on him would make talking to Banner easier. “So, my Uncle, the night he died, we got into a stupid fight. I was so busy trying to figure out my abilities and stuff that I lost track of time. My Uncle Ben wasn’t super strict or anything. He only insisted we have one night a week together, one night to hang out and watch movies together or whatever we felt like doing and of course, with everything going on, I showed up late two weeks in a row. 

“I told him what I was working on was important, but he told me that it didn't matter how big my brain or how important my work was if I didn't utilize them for good, and do what is expected of me. 'With great power, comes great responsibility,' he'd said. I yelled back like a stupid kid, saying if it didn't matter so much, why did they push me? Why did my grades matter if all they cared about was making curfew?"

Peter laughed self-deprecatingly. "I didn't get it. I'm smart, sure, but my friend MJ says I'm also the dumbest boy she knows, so I shouldn't be surprised. I didn't realize until he was gone that he meant that my brain was a gift, something that I needed to use for the good of everyone, not just my own selfish agendas. To him, my great power was my mind, but the lesson is the same when it comes to my mission as Spider-Man. 

“We didn't choose this path, but it wasn't forced on us. There are a million different choices you and Nat could've made, but you made the right one. You chose the world over yourself, over and over."

Bruce couldn’t look at Peter. He sighed, shaking his head at the floor. Yep. He overestimated his resolve. The kid was just too good. Fuck. Bruce gave him a tight smile, still staring at the empty space in front of him, but reached over to pat Peter’s shoulder twice. 

"Thanks. The offer still stands and all, you know, but thanks."

“You too,” Peter said, genuinely thankful for the offer. He started working back on his Spider, and they fluidly moved back into normal conversation, debating what battery he should use for long term use and whether having a longer battery was worth having to construct a new exoskeleton. About ten minutes later, Mr. Stark joined them, polish staining his jeans, his hair slightly dampened from the effort of maintaining his suit. 

"Hey, Pete. If you're done having heart-to-hearts, I should probably but in and remind you that you have school tomorrow," Tony said, twirling a wrench around his finger. "And Bruce, is there any reason Loki called your phone five times in the last five minutes?"

Bruce's face flushed red and he hurried to his phone, mumbling a horrified "five times?" as he passed. Tony smirked, and tossed Peter a container of orange juice. 

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," Peter said happily, guzzling it down in three drinks. 

"You like him then?" Tony asked.

Peter gave him an odd look. 

"Of course I do. I told you I was a fan of him a long time ago."

"No, not as a scientist, shortstack. I meant just in general. Like a friend. Or maybe big, sometimes-green-colleague of sorts."

Peter huffed. "Yeah. He seems like a good guy."

Tony hummed around his own drink. "You sure you’re going to be okay doing the testing? I was going to ask you before, but you know I can get Bruce to back down if you need me to."

Peter's mouth twisted. Testing. He wished he could be honest and say he didn't want to do it at all, but he knew the Captain was right. It was really best for everyone if they knew what he could handle and what he couldn't. Knowing your friends strengths and weaknesses make assigning duties easier. He may not have ever been interested in sports, but he understood that concept well enough. 

"No, it's okay.”

“You sure? Because I think we will have the test ready in about a week and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something if you don’t want to.”

“A week? I thought we were doing it tomorrow?” Peter asked, confused.

“Well, I found a better way to test you. I just have to get it ready, and my projects tend to be a bit extravagant,” Mr. Stark said. “But that isn’t the point. Say the word and we can cancel it. No hard feelings.”

“It’s okay. Really.” Mr. Stark didn’t look convinced. “The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can get back in the suit and start patrolling."

Tony quirked his head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"My suit. Patrolling." Peter said, apprehensively. "Why are you looking at me with a scary face?"

"Because stupid words are coming out of your mouth," Tony said. "You think you are going patrolling? Do you not remember the bomb that almost eviscerated you like a week ago?"

Peter frowned. "You said I could keep my suit."

"That was when I thought you would be using it only when you needed it," Tony argued. 

"Yeah, and I need it when I patrol."

"You aren't patrolling, so you don't need it,” Tony said, emphasizing his words. 

"I do, because I am. I can't just hide up here while bad things happen to people, Mr. Stark. I can help."

"Not happening, kid. It's too dangerous. End of discussion."

"I know you heard what I was telling Dr. Banner. You know what this means to me," Peter said, his hands shaking. 

"I get that, and eventually you'll hopefully get to go out again, but-"

"No. Don't treat this like me getting to patrol again is a best case scenario, because for me, it's the only scenario I can live with. I am going to patrol. I don't care if you have to put a dozen trackers in my suit or follow me around like a puppy, but I can't just sit here," Peter yelled. He took a deep breath and his face hardened into a fiercely calm expression. "You can't stop me."

Tony gave him an equally fiery look and Peter instinctively took half a step back. Yeesh. 

"Uhm. Okay, you probably could," Peter relented, hurriedly, his head bobbling around. "You can, but I really hope you won't. I know you know what this feels like. Please don’t take it from me, Mr. Stark. "

Tony stared at him for what felt like an hour, his mind supplying and endless montage of horrible scenarios, then sighed. It didn't matter. If Peter was anything like Tony, and it was scary how much it was so, then nothing would be able to keep him from the suit. "We will rehash this when the others come back, maybe come up with a rotating schedule. But only if you promise not to leave without a partner."

Peter's relief was almost palpable. Even if he could've hidden his escapades from Mr. Stark, he really didn't want to. He would take what he could get. 

"I promise. Thank you, Mr. Stark. And I'm sorry I, you know, yelled and stuff. I don't know why I did that," Peter said, sheepishly. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm getting used to the lip already, I think it's an angsty teen thing. Now scurry to bed before I ground you."

Peter gave him a warm smile, then headed to bed, trying not to think too hard about what the other Avengers must be doing. 

****  
WEDNESDAY 

Steve sat on the small sofa of Natasha and Sam's motel room next to Bucky, wishing not for the first time since they'd left that he could sleep in his bed, or better yet, just go home. Today was another waste, not that he'd say that to the others. He was sure they would find something if they could just be patient, but that was the problem, wasn't it? 

"We should just charge in, man. Obviously we aren't getting anywhere by trying to scope it out. I mean, it's invisible," Sam said, exasperated. "We can only stare at empty space so long before you've learned all you can."

"We are wasting a lot of time going back and forth," Natasha said. "I get not wanting to expose ourselves by having the quinjet too close, but I'm starting to agree with Sam."

"They'll leave as soon as they see us, though. We ain’t got a lot of choices," Bucky said, glancing up at Steve as he worked on untying his remaining boot. "Remember Texas? We were there five minutes and half the bastards were already underground. We can't give them any notice or we will lose before we even make it to the game."

"We can't just go with the bikes either," Natasha pointed out. "By the time we make our move we are going to be too worn down to strike effectively, and when we go to leave we will either run into reinforcements or be forced to go back the way we came. If one of us is injured, it will be impossible to make it back up those mountains."

She was right about that. Climbing through the mountains to their vantage point was more than a little difficult, especially for Natasha and Sam. Trying to imagine attacking the base after a difficult trek, then turning around and having to go back the way they came sounded less than desirable, especially if they managed to collect anything of use. 

"You girl scouts could always come rough it out up there with me," Clint said, stepping out of the steam filled bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. "My tent is big enough to share."

"And come back smelling like you? No thanks," Steve said, smirking lazily, trying to lighten the mood. 

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Natasha agreed. 

"You guys are going to have to figure out something," Clint said, shrugging. "You can't keep going the way you've been."

"Wanna provide a solution to that or are you just here to look pretty?" Sam asked. 

"To look pretty, definitely."

Sam scoffed, looking skeptical. “You suck at your job.” 

"Wait, who the hell so you think found this place to begin with? Uhm, yeah. Me. Because I'm a badass. Besides, planning isn't really my forte. Ask Steve. He trashed my first idea."

Bucky gave him a questioning look. Clint grinned, miming shooting an arrow, then clasped his hands together into fists. He paused then made an explosion sound, waving his hands with spirit fingers.

“Eh? What do you think?” Clint asked, smirking and nodding proudly, his arms stretched out. 

”Beautiful,” Bucky deadpanned. 

Steve ignored the two, still thinking over the possible approaches. "Natasha, do you think there is enough room to land the quinjet in the clearing by the base?"

She stared down at the edge of the bed, thinking. "It's hard to say without knowing the exact dimensions of the building. If it's a normal rectangular shaped building that starts where they've been disappearing, we should be able to land between there and the trees safely. I wouldn't risk landing on top or on either side though, not when we can't see where we are going or what's in the way."

"Still wouldn't leave a lotta room to get out," Bucky pointed out. 

"I can manage," Nat shrugged.

"She's used to fitting big things in tight spaces," Clint said, grinning. 

"I missed you," Natasha said, despite the roll of her eyes. 

Clint walked to the fridge and pulled out a water and three packages of gummies, opening the first one and popping a few in his mouth. "Missed you too, Nat. You owe me dinner."

"Always."

Steve let the others talk and catch up as he walked over to the table, opening the map Clint brought them the first night they arrived. The clearing was marked by a big red circle, the vantage point by a blue x. Hydra was smart, he had to give them that. The vantage point Clint found was difficult to get to, and all other possible routes to reach the building were heavily monitored or too densely packed with brush to be accessible and if enemies came from the air, they would have more than enough warning to get away. 

Steve stared at the map, getting lost in his own head. 

"Find something?" Bucky asked, his breath on Steve's neck almost making him shudder. Steve swallowed past the flutter in his stomach and shook his head. 

"I'm not sure. I think we will still have to take the bikes, but maybe..." Steve pursed his lips, grabbing the marker off the table. "Clint, do you think we can climb down from here, and branch out?"

Clint stopped mid sentence to walk over, looking over the semi-circle Steve made on the map.

"I don't know. You and Bucky would probably be able to make it through this side, but even then it would take you some time. Probably a machete or two, too."

"How long?"

Clint made a face. "I'm not sure. This is about half a mile from here to here, but I don't know if you get how dense this stuff is. It's going to suck, for sure."

Steve nodded, then grabbed the tape from his bag, putting the map on the wall. Everyone took this as a sign to sit down, and put all conversation away for later. 

"Tomorrow morning all of us, aside from Nat, will go back on the bikes. We are going to climb up the vantage point the usual way. Sam, Bucky, and Clint are going to work their way down and take the right side, and I will take the left. We can't risk using the comms until they already know we are there. We don't want them to intercept the signal and figure out we are there before we want them to."

"Then how do we know when we are ready to move forward?" Sam asked. 

"We will have to agree on a time, and stick to it. Clint said it would take me maybe an hour or two to get in position, so let's say we will follow the first person we see after 0800 hours. At that time, Sam and Clint will come from the back side and try to make it to the roof while we charge the front. We don't know how high the building is, you guys are going to have to take it easy while also trying to be as stealthy as possible. If an alarm is tripped or you're spotted, we should know it. Me and Buck will work on finding the lab, and you guys try to find the best way to take down the building on command, or block the exits, whichever you find will be easier. I think it goes without saying this is a no prisoner mission," Steve said, gravely. He looked between them and they all nodded solemnly. 

"And where am I supposed to be during all of this?" Natasha asked, crossing her arms defensively when his eyes landed on her.

"You are going to be on the quinjet, ready to land and possibly take out the building when we come back online," Steve said. 

"I don't appreciate being benched, Rogers," Natasha said, eyes narrowed. "I know I said I could do it, but being pushed to pilot duty when I could be helping on the ground doesn't feel right."

"You and Bucky are the only ones who can pull it off and Bucky is probably the best with Hydra tech. I'm not benching you, I'm utilizing your strengths."

"Sure."

"Come on. You know I wouldn't leave my best girl out of the action," Steve smiled, his eyes crinkling. 

Natasha relented, but rolled her eyes. "Without Wanda, I'm your only girl."

"True, but I mean it nonetheless," Steve said. 

"We should probably try to hit the hay if we are leaving at 6," Bucky said, standing from the bed and walking over to his backpack. "You coming, Steve?"

Bucky looked over his shoulder at Steve who nodded, pulling the map off the wall and rolling it back up to stuff if back in his bag. 

"Yeah, I'm right behind you," he said. 

"I'm staying with you guys if we're doing this thing tomorrow," Clint said. "No sense in waking up with a rock up my ass when I can cuddle up to a warm spider lady."

Clint shot her an over dramatic eyebrow wiggled and strutted back to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before Natasha could protest. Not that she would, but still. She watched amused, then grabbed for her phone when it vibrated on her pillow. 

"I forgot to tell you Tony called to ask how we are doing earlier," Natasha said, pointedly to Steve. 

Steve straightened, then a small smile crept on his face. “Is that so?” She nodded nonchalantly. Steve knew Tony often messaged Natasha when she was gone, but the fact that she was sharing his concerns with Steve meant that Tony wasn't just checking up on her. Tony was worried about them. Steve couldn’t help but think that this felt like a step in a good direction. 

"Should I update him or do you want to call him back?"

Bucky slowed himself, taking his time to pack his things up as he listened. 

"You can call him," Steve said. "But how's the kid doing? Did Stark say?"

Bucky felt something unpleasant rile up inside him and he gritted his teeth. He couldn't understand why Steve was so worried about the kid. He was obviously strong, and capable of handling himself. Tony seemed to be doing just fine dealing with him on his own, and they had enough to be worried about here without adding Stark's problems to it. 

"He's fine. They've apparently been working on some robot-thing Peter designed," Natasha shrugged. "He's giving Tony a hard time about letting him patrol though, so we have that to work out when we get back."

"He's wanting to patrol?" Steve asked, sounding less surprised than the question insinuated.

"Apparently. Tony figured it would be hard to keep him from the fight, he just didn't expect it so soon," Natasha said. 

"Keep him from trouble is more like it. Kid's a freakin' magnet," Bucky muttered. 

Steve wanted to defend Peter, but because it was Bucky that said it, he managed to stuff it down, swinging his bag onto his back. "Let us know if anything changes, Nat. We will see you in the morning. We will be next door if you need anything." 

Bucky and Steve walked to their room, and Steve waited until it clicked closed behind him before leveling Bucky with a hard look. 

“What is the matter, Buck? I can tell you’re mad I just don’t understand why. Is there something we need to talk about?” 

“I don’t know, Captain, is there something you need to talk about?” Bucky shot back. 

Steve gritted his teeth. He didn’t understand how hearing that word could ignite so many different feelings in him depending on the context. Normally, Bucky would say it before a mission, making him feel confident and hopeful. Other times, when they were alone, he could almost imagine that Bucky said it because he could feel the small jolt that ran through Steve, too. Now, it just made him angry.

"What is this about, huh? Are you mad at Peter?" He asked. 

Bucky raised a brow. "Considerin' I ain't a child, no. I'm not mad at Peter."

"Well, the way you’re acting says otherwise. You have to know that the bomb wasn't his fault," Steve pressed, the insecure look Peter had in the gym flashing in his mind. He pushed it away, and focused on the intensity of Bucky’s features. "They were after him, but we can't blame him for the things Hydra does."

"Are we really doing this?" Bucky asked, dropping his bag by the bed, taking large strides until he was eye level with Steve. Steve felt heat rush up his neck at the proximity, want and shame mixing into a painful cocktail. He fought the urge to avert his eyes or to lean forward and wrap his arms around his best friend. He wanted things to go back to normal. He wanted things to change, to move forward. He wanted to hash this out and get it over with and he wanted to shut up and just enjoy having Bucky, here and now. He couldn’t have everything. 

"Yeah. We are. I know Hydra missions get to you more than normal ones, but your little jabs aren't doing anyone any favors. We are finally starting to act like a unit again, and you and Sam keep drawing this line, making it you VS them. Sam is trying, I can see it, at least with Nat and Rhodey, but every time I turn around we are arguing. Us. It shouldn’t be that way.”

"About who, Stevie? Who are we always arguing about?" Bucky demanded. Steve's jaw twitched. "Don’t act so high and mighty. You were avoiding Stark just as much as the rest of us a two weeks ago! Don't act like you weren't."

"I didn't say I wasn't, but Tony was my friend. The Accords messed everything up, tore us apart. Yes, I was avoiding him, but Peter opened a door I didn't even know could exist anymore. Tony needing our help and actually asking for it-" Steve shook his head. "It means something, okay?"

"Don't act like this is about Stark," Bucky said. "That may be part of it, but you know what is making us argue."

Steve looked at him blankly. "What am I supposed to think this is about? You literally just said you were mad about my interactions with Stark. I don't understand what you want from me. What are so mad about?"

Bucky's fist clenched at his side. He bit back the accusation clawing its way up his throat, and turned away from Steve, stalking away purposefully. "Never mind. Forget it. I'm taking a shower." 

The door slammed, the sound of splintering wood filling the silence. Steve stared the space between them, wondering what the hell just happened. 

******  
FRIDAY 

"Every year, I like to think of a fun way to mix up the way my students absorb information," Mrs. Anderson explained, walking down the row of desks. Her dark hair and bright eyes were one of the most welcoming parts of Peter's day. She was one of those magical unicorn teacher's that everyone seemed to love despite her exceedingly high expectations. "This year, I talked to all of the teachers and tried to figure out which class you would benefit an extra grade in. Much to my dismay, I realized I was silly to assume that everyone would share the same strengths and weaknesses."

She paused, pulling out the smart board from behind her desk. She turned it on and there were four categories written out in different colors. "World History, Anatomy, English, and Chemistry. You will choose one of the four classes, and based on which class you choose, you and a partner will have to come up with a multilayer project that is both artistic and relevant to your subject, along with a paper detailing what you learned. Unfortunately, I couldn't convince your math teacher that you could gain anything from some kind of special project, so these will be your only options."

She pulled out three previously made projects. One was a poster board completely decked out in multicolored facts and had lift up tabs with hand drawn pictures and information written underneath. The second was what looked like a handcrafted foosball table, but all the players were replaced with soldiers and was set up like a battlefield. The third was a rollercoaster from Coney Island build out of foam, toothpicks, and moldable plastic. 

"As you can see, I expect a lot of work and creativity to be put in this project. Not everything has to be hand drawn or built, but the more you use outside made sources, the more I will expect creativity in other areas. For example, if you use pictures from magazines to make a collage, the collage needs to be more than just a pictures glued to a poster board. It will have to be unique and attention drawing. This is a six week long project. That being said, I want it to wow me. I don't care what you choose to do as long as it aids your learning in the class that you chose, and meets my expectations in creativity." 

Peter suddenly wished more than ever he shared this class with Ned or MJ. He knew a few people vaguely from having classes with them over the years, but nobody well enough to warrant asking to be their partner. 

"I'm going to give you the next-" she stopped, squinting at the clock on the wall, "10 minutes to find a partner and decide on a subject. If you don’t figure it out today, I want you to be thinking about it over the weekend. I’ll give you Monday’s class to write up a topic and possible project ideas, and I’ll expect them to be turned in to be checked before class ends, but after that, the project will need to be done outside of class. Okay? Now partner up.”

The room automatically erupted in chatter and Peter sighed for what felt like the millionth time since Sunday. He could probably just wait until everyone else had a partner. That's what he did when he didn't have Ned in classes before. 

"Hey."

Peter knew by the chill up his back who was talking to him before he even turned around. 

"Uhm-hi."

"You have a partner?" The white-haired guy asked. 

Peter reluctantly shook his head. "Not yet, no. Which class do you need an extra grade in?"

The dude grinned widely. "All of them. I'm not exactly an Einstein type so the choice is yours, buckaroo."

Peter didn't return the smile. "I'm not-I don't-"

"I'm Steven. Steven Wescott," he said, holding out his hand across the aisle. Peter instinctively flinched back when he felt the tingling in his spine get stronger. Peter wanted nothing less than to feel Steven's skin against his. 

Thankfully, the kid seemed to misread Peter's reluctance and pulled his hand away sheepishly. "O-Kay. Uhm. I should probably apologize, I know. Though, if I'm being honest, I really tried to stop Flash."

"Yeah, I heard," Peter said. 

Steven flinched at the harshness in his tone. "Well. Uhm. It's true. I don't even know why Flash has it out for you so bad. I don't believe in the whole mutual hate breeds friendship thing though, so if it's okay, I would really like to be partners."

Peter wanted to leave. He hated the guy's voice. The way his words wrapped around him and settled on his ears. He hated the gross feeling like slime on his skin where his eyes travelled. Peter shifted uncomfortably. 

"I've missed a lot of school. I'm actually thinking of asking Mrs. Anderson if I can do the project by myself," Peter said, as casually as he could manage.

Steven’s face fell, but he forced a small laugh. "Yeah. Okay. Right. I'm sorry. I'm sure I will find someone."

Peter tried to ignore the guilt that wiggled it's way into his gut. There was an inscrutable look on the guy's face now as he twisted his head around, searching for a new partner, but the flash of hurt on his face was impossible to miss, not matter how quickly it had gone. 

Peter kicked himself internally before the thought was even fully formed. 

It couldn't really be that bad pairing up with the guy. It would actually help to be able to give the rest of the Avengers more to go on in looking into him, and if Peter was keeping an eye on him, that meant he wasn't off doing..bad guy..things. The uncomfortable feeling in his gut grew, and he bit the inside of his cheek before trusting himself to speak. 

"Would you mind if we do it over history?"

Steven turned back to him and his face softening a bit, but then his expression morphed into suspicion. "Not at all. Like I said, my grades aren't that great across the board. Why the change of heart?"

Peter shrugged. "Most people will need the help in science, but I make high A's in those classes. Plus, you're new. It makes sense that you'd be behind too, so it's not like I'd be holding you back. Maybe-maybe it'll be an advantage."

The last part came out like a very uncertain question, but Steven didn't seem to mind. He seemed to vibrate with excitement. 

"Awesome. Thanks, man. Doyou have any ideas what you're wanting to do?"

"Uhm, not off the top of my head. I'm not usually artsy, but I'm pretty good at building stuff."

"What, like hot glue and popsicle sticks? I'm sure we could do that."

Peter quirked his head, trying to figure out if he was serious or not. 

"I actually meant like building. Like metal and welding and stuff," Peter said, rubbing the back of his hot neck. "Woodwork isn't my strong suit but I'm sure I could probably figure that out too if we needed it."

"Oh. Okay. Wow. This school really is way more advanced than my old one," Steven chuckled. "I'm pretty sure the biggest project I had to do there was a papier-mâché pot for archaeology class."

"That's okay. I'm sure we can figure out something."

"Why don't you let me do the research and I'll let you do the artsy thing? Even I can handle history research."

Peter thought on it a moment. 

"Sure. But if that's how we are going to split the work I think both of us should have our work completed at the four week mark so that if there is anything either of us disagree on, we still have two weeks to fix it."

"Sure thing, Einstein. Whatever you say." Steven said, grinning. 

The bell rang shortly after, and as the other students started moving and gathering their things to leave, Steven continued staring at him with curious blue eyes, his smile growing with the passing seconds. 

"You're kind of pretty, you know? In a cute kind of way. I think it's those big doe eyes."

Peter's eyes widened and he flushed red, hoping his averted gaze translated to shyness instead of disgust. "Uhm-I-I Thanks. I think."

"No problem. See you tomorrow." 

Steven slid him a piece of paper with his email on it, and Peter just stared at it for a long minute before shoving it in his pocket. 

*****

For the first time since Peter went to Stark Industries, Peter went home with Ned. He sent Mr. Stark a quick message letting him know where he'd be, and after a short inquisition about the whereabouts of Peter's suit, Mr. Stark agreed, telling Peter to call Happy when he was ready to leave. Ned was more than a little excited to have his friend back, and MJ invited herself to Ned's for dinner, defending her decision by saying she didn't have anything better to do until her mom got home. 

Aleka Leeds, Ned’s mom, was happy enough to pick them up, gracing them with cookies from Ned's favorite bakery the moment they hopped into the car. She gave Peter a sad smile that Peter tried not to think too much about, but quickly turned the conversation to the upcoming Decathlon meet, much to Peter’s relief. 

When they made it to Ned's apartment, the smell of dinner was already filling the hallway. Peter's mouth instantly started watering, his stomach clenching. 

"Smells amazing, Mrs. Leeds," Peter said, excitedly. 

"Thanks, Peter. It shouldn't be too long. Ned texted me at lunch to make extra, so there should be more than plenty to go around," she said, tussling his hair the way she had for years. 

“You haven’t seen Peter eat,” Ned mumbled. Peter bumped shoulders with him, just as Mrs. Leeds turned back to them. 

“Oh, and Neddy, don't make too big of a mess in your room, dear. Your cousins are coming this weekend and I know you don't want to spend all Friday night cleaning."

“I don’t really want the cousins over either,” he grumbled. Mrs. Leeds gave him a sharp look. “What? They always mess up my legos.”

"I'll make sure they put up all their nerd things, Anika," MJ said, defusing the oncoming argument easily. Mrs. Leeds laughed. 

"I'm sure you will, Michelle. Always keeping my boys in line. You guys go play and I'll call you when dinner is ready. Keep the door open." She sang the last bit and Ned flushed. 

"We don't play, mom, and second, gross," Ned said. MJ, mildly offended, punched his shoulder making Ned hiss dramatically. "Ow. Pain."

MJ just shrugged at his glare, walking past the boys to Ned's room. 

As always, MJ took up most of the bed, pulling out a book and reading while Peter and Ned worked on whatever project they had at the time. Peter was itching to show Ned his Spidey-Cam, but he knew he couldn't, seeing as MJ was there and it was Spider-Man's tech and not Peter's, so instead they started working on building Ned's desktop. 

It wasn't necessarily a hard job, and Peter kept finding his mind wandering back to art class, and the weird comment Steven made. Peter didn't know if it was because of his Spidey-Sense or what, but every time he thought about it, he felt a burning discomfort in his stomach. He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to be able to tell Ned that he was rude, or mean, or gross, because that's how Steven made him feel, but when he looked back on the conversation, Steven was nothing but polite. He probably acted a little more familiar with Peter than was expected for barely knowing him, but that wasn't exactly a crime.

When Peter couldn't take it any more, he decided to test the waters. 

"So you guys remember white haired guy?"

"The guy you're prejudiced against for some reason?" MJ asked, not even bothering to put down her book. 

"Im not prejudiced against him, I just-"

"Prejudice: preconceived opinion that is not based on reason or actual experience," she quoted. 

Peter looked to Ned for backup but he gave him an apologetic smile. "I mean, she's not wrong."

“He’s friends with Flash,” Peter defended.

“And he also stood up to Flash when he outed you,” Michelle pointed out. 

Peter sighed. He couldn’t argue with that. 

“Anyway. I’m working with him on my art project," Peter admitted. 

"What?" Ned shouted, making MJ jump. "Sorry, M. I just meant, you know, why? I mean, if you don't like him, why would you choose him?”

"Neither of us had partners. It wasn’t so much a choice."

"Is that why you've been so quiet?" MJ asked, observant as always.

"Yeah I guess. I'm just trying to figure out how I’m supposed to act. I mean, what would we even do our project over?”

"Is it the one for Anderson?" She asked and Peter nodded. "I heard about that. You should choose History. You suck in that class."

"Yeah, I know, thanks for that," Peter said, amused. 

"What's the project supposed to be?" Ned asked, unwrapping an amazon box. 

"It can be over pretty much anything to do with World History. As long as it's like super artsy."

"Do it over Captain America!" Ned said, excitedly. The words came out so fast, Peter wondered if Ned planned to say it even before he answered. 

"Dude, don't make this weird," Peter whined. "Just because I talk with him occasionally doesn't give me full creeper access."

"I'm serious! Who embodies World History better than Steve Rogers? He fought in World War 2, lived in two totally different periods of time, and was born in Brooklyn. I bet Mrs. A would give you bonus points for having a primary source of information and everything!"

"So this is about you caring for my grades and not your infatuation with Cap?" Peter asked. 

"I mean the fact that the man is a work of art in itself doesn't hurt."

MJ sniggered. "He's got you there, Parker."

"What would I even do it about?"

Ned shrugged, dropping the screwdriver in his and reaching behind him to grab his thermos off of his desk. "Just do the first thing that pops into your head when you think about him. I'm sure it'll work out."

Peter stared at Ned blankly. 

"I doubt Mrs. A would appreciate a statue of America's Ass."

Ned almost spit out his tea. 

*****

Natasha tried to shake the bone deep feeling of discouragement when they arrived back at the Tower. The last 6 days had been a complete bust. They managed to infiltrate the base, but with the technology they were using, an estimated 20 agents managed to escape, with who knows how much information. The only solace Natasha could find in returning home was that they managed to stop the computer shut down before it could wipe the blueprints for the machine responsible for concealing the base. 

Steve didn't seem much better off. Ever since he left her motel room the night before the raid, he seemed off. He was ominously quiet the whole ride home, and Bucky wasn’t much better. It was obvious something happened between them, but she knew that unless she wanted to upset them, she wouldn’t be getting an explanation any time soon. That was Just them though. They were both stubborn to a fault, unable to let anyone else shoulder their burdens. Whatever was bothering them. she had to trust that Steve would be smart enough to come to someone if it got to be too much. 

They arrived at the tower around 3 AM, so she went straight to bed, despite the aching in her chest that seemed to be pulling her to the penthouse. She tried not to think about it, but thankfully she managed to forget her worries and get some sleep before the sun had risen. 

Natasha stepped back into her newly altered routine like a duck to water, her alarm going off at 6:30. She ignored the excited flutter in her chest as she stepped off the elevator and walked into the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee from downstairs, instantly perking when she heard Peter talking loudly from his seat at the bar. 

"No way, man," he laughed. "You aren't going to convince me."

Clint scowled at the teen, looking genuinely distraught. "I kill people, Peter. Literally. I could explode a train full of kittens with one arrow."

Natasha's heart leaped at the sight of her best friend and Peter chatting animatedly. She should have known they’d get along. 

"See? The fact that the evilest thing you can think of is exploding kittens only solidifies my theory!" 

"Peter. I'm an ex assassin," Clint pressed. 

"An ex-assassin who is also a giant cinnamon roll. You're a Hufflepuff. You can't convince me otherwise."

Natasha barked out a laugh and the two turned to her, Peter's face brightening, while Clint's melted to a pout. 

"Nat, tell Peter the lying Piper here that I'm a Slytherin."

Before Nat could answer, Peter was arguing his point again, dramatically lifting a finger with each reason. "Come on, no. He's loyal to a fault, he's a giant floof, and every Slytherin has a Hufflepuff best friend."

"Every Slytherin has..." Clint started, his brows furrowed in confusion, then his mouth dropped open. "What? How the hell does Nat get to be the Slytherin best friend? Why can’t I be the Slytherin best friend?"

"Sorry, love. You are definitely a Hufflepuff."

Peter grinned smugly as he pulled out a glass and Nesquik. 

"Et tu, Natasha? The betrayal. The outrage."

Natasha strode over and enveloped Clint in a hug, squeezing him tightly. "I’m sorry, you dramatic man-child. You didn’t tell me you knew Peter.”

Peter walked to the fridge, pulling out the milk and closed it again. “Oh, he didn’t.”

"What?” Natasha asked, pulling Clint away from her, squinting at him. "You just met? But you were just talking like you've already been acquainted."

Peter laughed. "Oh no. I tripped over him when I was headed to the kitchen this morning. Apparently he was going to spy on Mr. Stark by going through the air vent, got bored and fell asleep on the floor. Or at least that's what he says."

Natasha gave Clint a pained look. "You aren't making the greatest first impression."

"Ah, Whatever. Kid loves me. Right kid?" Clint said, giving him a pointed look. 

"Oh yeah. He's awesome,” Peter grinned. “I can see why you picked him.”

Clint groaned, angrily biting into his apple. “If anyone is a Hufflepuff, it’s the Captain.”

“What?!” Peter and Natasha both squawked. 

“No way,” said Natasha.

“He’s like the most Gryffindory Gryffindor to have ever Gryffindored,” Peter shouted. “Clint, man, you’d suck as a sorting hat.”

Steve stepped into the kitchen looking at the three of them like they were wild animals. “Should I step out? It looks like you guys are having a moment.”

“Stevey, my man. Come on. Tell these guys I’m dangerous and cunning,” Clint said, perching himself on a chair, crouching and balancing on the balls of his feet. 

“As a child with a gun,” Steve agreed, seriously. Clint sputtered again, making Peter laugh even louder. 

“Rude.” 

“Morning, Captain. I was about to make breakfast. You hungry?” Peter asked. 

“How is it I’m still just the Captain when you barely know Clint and you’re already using his first name? You’d think a bomb between friends would warrant being on a first name basis.”

Peter flushed, but Natasha saved him, giving Peter a quick side eye. “Probably because Clint acts around his age.”

“What the hell, Nat? Is today pick on sexy people day?”

Natasha waved a hand at Clint, tilting her head at Steve. “See what I mean?”

“Alright. You’re off the hook, kid. But please just call me Steve. I’m only a few years older than you,” Steve said, taking a seat at the bar.

“O-okay,” Peter stammered. “So did you? Want breakfast? Or..”

“Sure. Real food sounds great, actually. Thanks, Peter.”

“I should probably make for Mr. Stark and Bruce too,” Peter muttered to himself as he looked through the fridge. Rhodey and Pepper were already on a plane to Seattle for a convention. “Do you think Bucky and Sam will want some? Actually you know what, I’ll make them some anyway. You guys okay with pancakes and bacon? That’s the only thing that I can think of that will feed this many people.”

Steve started to answer, but Clint beat him to it. 

“Hell yeah. I think there are some chocolate chips in the cabinet. Right, JARVIS?” Clint asked.

“Yes, Mr. Barton. Peter can find them on the third cabinet to the left of the refrigerator.”

“Thanks, JARVIS. Is Mr. Stark up yet?” Peter asked, pulling the bag out. He worked on separating the batter into two bowls, pouring chocolate chips in one and leaving the other plain. 

“No, but his alarm is set for 7 AM for the debriefing at eight. Would you like me to wake him up now?”

Peter glanced at Natasha. “No, but can you switch his normal alarm to the one you did in my room the other day?”

JARVIS paused. “Of course, Peter. The alarm is set. I hope you enjoy it. I’m sure it will only be allowed once.”

Peter shrugged, smiling as he folded the chocolate chips into the pancake mix. “It’ll be worth it.”

An hour later, everyone was sitting at the large kitchen table, plates stacked high with pancakes. Mr. Stark’s alarm going off was not, in fact, worth it. It turns out, he is pretty grumpy before his coffee, but apparently lucid enough to erase the video feed from his bedroom immediately after it went off so Peter got all of the negative, with none of the positive. Even the breakfast, a coffee, and seeing Natasha wasn’t enough to get the angry line out of his brow, but the giddy smirk on Clint’s face made Peter feel less bad. 

“I’m guessing from the slump in all of your shoulders we didn’t get anywhere on the serum?” Bruce asked, cutting up his stack of pancakes. 

“No,” Natasha said. “The plan was pretty solid, and we managed to get inside alright, but they had a bomb in the lab.”

“Seriously?” Peter asked. “For being an evil scientist group, you’d think they’d find a better method of concealing their records. Seems to me like they’re one-trick ponies.”

Tony snorted, despite himself. Steve raised his brow at him. “What? It was funny. Did they not have humor in your time, fossil face?”is

Steve ignored him, more than used to being the target of Stark’s anger. “They has a computer program that seemed to delete all of their files across the board somehow, but I think they were scared we would take samples of what they were working on.”

“If it ain’t broke, why fix it,” Bucky said. “The bomb kept us from getting what we want. I’m sure they’ll be riggin’ up all their bases now.”

“That means we can’t just go in full force anymore,” Sam said, reaching across the table for the syrup. “We will have to depend on blueprints or something and sneak in, and we all know how impossible that is.”

“I don’t know. Me and Clint could probably do it,” Peter said, nonchalantly. He continued to cut his pancake, only looking up when he noticed everyone was quietly looking at him. He stopped mid-chew, letting out a pancake muffled, “What?”

“You aren’t going to a Hydra base, for one,” Tony said. 

“Why don’t we talk about this later?” Bruce interjected. “Let’s just enjoy breakfast and-“ 

“What makes you think you can sneak in better than the rest of us?” Sam asked, interrupting Bruce’s attempt at diplomacy. 

Bruce sighed, heavily. “Here we go.”

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but my mom’s a spider,” Peter deadpanned. Natasha quickly picked up her glass to cover her smile but judging by the highly amused look on Tony’s face, she wasn’t quick enough. 

“Pete,” Tony said, reigning himself in to look at Peter seriously. “We don’t recycle jokes in this household. Get new material and in the mean time, why don’t you explain to the nice men why you’ve deluded yourself into thinking you are doing anything but staying locked up in this nice little tower.”

“Its only old and dried up when I say it,” Peter grumbled. Tony waited expectantly and Peter sighed. “The whole stealth thing is kind of my thing. I can crawl on walls and the ceiling and well, pretty much anywhere, so I can get to places most people can’t and do it without being seen. Plus, from what I learned this morning about Clint, he seems to spend a lot of time maneuvering ventilation systems so between the both of us....”

Peter stopped and Clint’s eyes widened, frantically making a cutting motion across his throat, begging Peter with his eyes to shut up. 

Mr. Stark glared at Clint, who cleared his throat and straitened immediately. “Barton, again? Really? You’re going to fall through the ceiling and as funny as that would be I don’t like people I don’t know being in my space, and I don’t have time to patch ceilings on my own either. I swear you’re worse than Thor.”

Clint waved his hand. “In my defense, I didn’t actually go in this morning. Besides, I wouldn’t fall through. I’m an expert.” He thought for a moment and started again. “Oh, and I’m sorry, but are we just going to ignore that the kid said he can walk on the ceiling?”

Clint shoved a big forkful of pancake in his mouth and looked at Tony expectantly. 

“That does sound kind of unbelievable,” Steve said, looking apologetically in Peter’s direction. 

“Oh, it’s unbelievable alright. I had to explain to Dr. Cho why their was blood stains on the ceiling,” Mr. Stark said. 

“What? Really?” Clint asked. “That is so cool.”

Steve and Bucky looked equally as surprised. 

“That explains how you managed to take on all the Hydra agents,” Steve said. 

“I figured he was just strong and had the web shooters,” Bucky said, brows furrowed. “What else can he do?”

“From what he said, a lot,” Bruce said. “I know Tony doesn’t want him out but-“

“No. I’m sorry, but are we really considering taking him on the field?” Sam asked. Steve gave him a warning look, but Sam didn’t back down. “I know he’d be an asset, but we knew that from the beginning. He kicked ass in Germany but that doesn’t change the facts. I’m glad your here Peter, but you have to understand that none of this is easy right now. For any of us.”

“Sam’s right. This isn’t just about Peter being an unknown variable. Hydra wants him, and if we match in with him as our secret weapon, we could just as easily be handing him over on a silver platter,” Natasha said. 

“So what? You guys know that I can help and do things you guys can’t to figure out what Hydra is planning, but you won’t use me? So what am I supposed to do until then? Just keep hiding and hope you guys figure something out?” Peter asked, trying to keep his voice down. 

“It’s better than seeing you get taken away, паучок.”

Peter slunk down into his chair, staring at his plate angrily. Why couldn’t they see it didn’t matter if he got taken? It would be better than sitting around, pretending everything was alright just to be dunked back into reality every time he was alone. Being with Mr. Stark and Nat and Bruce and getting to work on his projects was great. Mr. Stark...well. As much as he loved his Uncle Ben, they never really had a lot in common. He was someone Peter could depend on to be there no matter what, but it was hard for them to relate to each other. Mr. Stark wasn’t like that. If Peter believed in soul mates, he used to think his was Ned, but meeting Mr. Stark and getting to know him made him feel like he belonged somewhere, for the first time in his life. 

But Peter wasn’t stupid. He knew this wasn’t his home. It probably wouldn’t ever be. Home was where you feel you can relax and be yourself, not where you walk on eggshells, constantly worrying that the people around you don’t care for you the way they say they do. Where they think you are some threat. Where half the people don’t trust you. 

“What about patrolling?” Steve said, looking at Peter worriedly. “Nat said you wanted to start back up. Would that be enough?”

Peter felt his eyes start to burn, and he quickly blinked, biting the inside of his cheek until all he could think about was the pain. He couldn’t make himself answer, but thankfully he didn’t have to. 

“We can’t just let him go out by himself,” Tony argued. “You guys might not care about him, but he’s my kid. I’m not letting him go out to get killed just to placate him, just like I’m not going to send him out to get killed with you to get rid of Hydra.”

Tony’s face was hard and unwavering. He didn’t want to talk about this, or think about it, much less entertain the thought of letting it happen. 

“I’m not saying he should go out on his own,” Steve argued. “Natasha said you wanted to talk about a schedule or something. I know I wouldn’t mind taking a night or two a week. Between you, me, and Nat he should be able to patrol as much as he wants.”

“Tony will be too busy. He and Bruce are the only ones that can build the device, but we should be able to manage with just Steve and I. If everyone agrees.” 

The table was silent as everyone thought it over, everyone stealing glances at Tony and Peter when they could. 

“Tony?” Natasha asked.

Mr. Stark was frowning to himself, but when he saw the hopeful expression on Peter’s face, he sighed. “Yeah. Alright. Fine, just...you’re taking that Spider with you, and you’ll have at least one person with you at all times. And I want a tracker in everyone’s suits so I need everyone to drop them by sometime today. It shouldn’t take me long to put them in.”

“Uhm, question,” Clint said, raising his hand. 

“Yes, you too, Clint,” Mr. Stark said, not even looking up at him before answering. “Me keeping tabs won’t kill you.” Clint sighed, obviously not agreeing with Mr. Stark’s sentiment, but it was too soon after getting caught to stand a chance arguing his point. 

“So that’s it for the meeting? We are done here?” Bucky asked. 

Steve winced at the sharpness in his voice. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll catch Stark and Bruce up on the specifics. I’m sure they are going to want to break down the schematics for the device anyway.”

“I’ll be in my room.” Bucky didn’t wait for a response before making his way out of the lounge. Steve couldn’t keep his eyes from following him if he tried, a pinched expression on his face. Peter looked away guiltily, taking refuge in the form of Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner. 

“So uhm, did they say something about a device?” Peter asked. 

“Yeah, they found the schematics for the device that cloaked the building,” Bruce explained. 

“Yep,” Mr. Stark said, kicking Peter on the shoe gently. “And guess who gets to build it up and find out what makes it tick?”

“Awesome,” Peter said, cheerfully. “When do we get started?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo. What did you think? Any predictions for what’s coming? Let me hear what you guys think!


	8. Popcorn Wars: A New Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another Sunday with the fambam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m super sorry for the long wait guys.  
> I have another chapter almost ready, and I’m going to try to get on a better schedule about posting. We are almost over the hill of difficult initial relationship building and once I get past that, I’m going to try to post two chapters a week. We will see! I hope you guys enjoy the break because the next chapter gets a bit dark again. Love you guys!

Mr. Stark was acting weird. It took Peter an almost embarrassing amount of time to realize it, but once he did, it was impossible to not notice. It wasn't that he was acting super obvious or anything, but it was more like a combination of a lot of little things that joined together to make a big blob of suspicious. At first he thought it was because of his obvious (and totally reciprocated if Peter was reading this right) feelings for Nat, but even that didn't make sense. 

The first time Peter noticed something weird was going on was when he saw Mr. Stark pulled Steve aside the night before the group left on Saturday. He didn't put much thought into it then, but in retrospect he should've suspected something was up immediately. That was the first time since he'd been at the tower that they'd talked one on one like that, as far as Peter knew. Next, there was the random, secretive phone calls peppered through the next few days, which he assumed were from Natasha or at the very least Steve calling to update them on the mission. 

That theory got trashed on Thursday, after the arrival of the first wave of weird packages. They must have contained something important, because that night and every night after, Mr. Stark and Bruce would take turns with him in the lab, excusing themselves for hours at a time, coming back looking thoroughly worn. The worst part was that no matter how many times he asked, he never got a straight answer about what they were doing. 

It was irritating, but he understood their reluctance to share to an extent. He wasn't technically an Avenger, partially because of the Accords and partially because of Hydra, but he didn't like to think about that little detail. He wanted to be an Avenger. He felt like an Avenger, despite being currently benched. Even though he didn't like their decision to keep him out, he respected it, because he respected Mr. Stark. 

After the briefing Saturday morning, Peter hoped that he'd learned everything he needed to know, but the possibility that they were keeping something still itched at the back of his mind. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't even distract himself from his thoughts with building the new badass tech from the mission because Mr. Stark said the file would take who knew how many hours to decrypt. 

The rest of Saturday was spent monotonously going over Peter's more mundane skills. How far he could jump, how fast he could run, how much he could bench. Mr. Stark was super impressed with that one. Peter thought it was only because he managed to surpass Steve, but it was funny and endearing anyway to hear him brag to the others. Peter wished he could have at least had some kind of training to look forward to today, but no such luck. 

Instead, Peter found himself pacing through his bedroom, muttering quietly to himself. It was still almost three hours until lunch time, but he figured if everyone was sticking to their usual routines from before their mission, he should be able to catch the Captain on the communal floor at around 12.

"So, Captain. Mr. Rogers. Sir. I was hoping that I could get your help on something."

Peter growled for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. Crap. It seemed Mr. Stark was right about his honorifics problem. Not that he'd tell him that, especially after Mr. Stark had the audacity to call it a fetish. Hearing him say the word at all was as disturbing as when May talked about how she wanted to lick Thor's abs. Talk about internal shudder. 

Peter caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror, stopping beside his dresser and staring blankly at the reflection in front of him. He looked different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he looked lighter somehow. Less bothered, which should have been impossible. Maybe it was how his body was beginning to fill out with the extra food, or the extra workouts with Natasha. Whatever it was, it was different, and Peter hated himself for it. 

How long had it been now? 3 weeks on Wednesday since May disappeared? And what had Peter done since then? He almost got everyone killed by a bomb for one, which was helpful to no one. He built a spider for missions he wasn't going on and played pretend family with the Avengers. 

Peter's hand curled into a tight fist. He hadn't even looked for May since the day he showed back up. School wasn't an excuse. Having the Avengers out doing his job wasn't an excuse. He should be the one out there searching, leaving no stone unturned, just like she would have done for him.

They weren't any closer to finding her than the day he arrived. They found the only Hydra cell, but nothing pertinent to May. Peter even pulled Natasha aside to ask if there was anything, even the tiniest sign that she was alive, but Natasha swore they didn't find anything. Which meant they were right back where they started. 

That thought made a cold, aching quiver of dread run up his spine. How was he ever supposed to face May if they found her, knowing he was doing nothing? Were they feeding her? Beating her? What if she was being tortured right now while he was debating how to ask Steve to help with his art project? He could see the dark masks of the men from his apartment, and wondered if they would have mercy on her. He didn't like his own answer. 

"Peter?" 

Peter gasped louder than was even remotely warranted, and Tony could see the cold sweat beading on Peter's face from the doorway. JARVIS had warned him Peter's vitals were abnormally high, but Tony hadn't expected to walk into this. He almost wished he'd let Natasha come check on him, but Tony knew Natasha never would have left if she saw Peter in this state. 

"You okay kid?" He asked, despite knowing by the frantic look in Peter's eye that he wasn't. 

"Yeah. I-I'm sorry. Did you need something?" 

Tony shook his head, but didn't move from the door. Tony and Natasha needed to go to Oscorp soon. Pepper worked nonstop for three days to rearrange Tony's schedule for this meeting. Of course Rhodey and Steve insisted if he was going to go he needed to take Natasha, and as much as he didn't like the idea of her being around that gigantic man-worm Norman, he had to admit he'd feel better with her there. 

"No, I just wanted to let you know that me and Nat are going to be out of the Tower until tonight," Tony said, after Peter plopped down onto his bed. Peter looked exhausted. Maybe it was partially from waking up so early after having such a long night the night before, but Tony knew that wasn't all it was. "Thought I'd make sure you didn't need anything before we left."

"Oh. No, I'm okay. You guys have fun."

"Do you want to talk about what's eating away at your brain cells?" Tony asked, the words forming and banding together, charging from his mouth before his usually brilliant brain could think to stop them. Peter was as surprised by the question as he was, but then Peter smirked, still looking tired, but less so than before. 

"Nah. Wouldn't want you to break out in hives before you and Nat's date."

"Ha ha. Very funny. I'm serious, though. I've heard talking about your problems is healthy. So let's do this! I'm all ears. I'm practically the best listener on the team. Not that I have much competition," Tony insisted. 

"No comment about the date? By the way, you're a terrible liar when you're deflecting," Peter teased. "Where are you guys going?"

"Not a date," Tony insisted, crossing his arms over his AC/DC shirt. "Just going to go see what we can figure out at SI."

"That you can't figure out here?" Peter asked, skeptically. "I put my money on nothing. Your get up here seems way more advanced than what you have in SI."

Tony shrugged. "It is, but people talk. Natasha's good at picking up on stuff we'd miss."

"Not everything," Peter muttered, thinking of her unconvinced look when Peter insisted Tony was interested in her. 

Tony raised a brow, but didn't give Peter the satisfaction of commenting on his little quip. "You going to be okay?"

"No. I'm going to lay around and weep. Maybe swing to the next building over and talk Clint into blowing me up with one of his arrows for practice. If I tell him it'll make him a Slytherin I'm sure he could be convinced."

"Peter."

Peter rolled his eyes at the obvious disapproval in Tony's tone. It was surprisingly similar to the tone Ben had with him sometimes. 

"I'll be fine, Mr. Stark. In fact, I'll be so busy working on this terrible art project, I'll barely even notice you're gone."

"Whatever. You'll miss me. If I don't have 20 calls by the end of the night I will be surprised."

Peter scoffed, pulling his binder out of his backpack. 

"The only person who's ever called you that many times in one day is maybe Pepper, and that's because you never show up to meetings anymore," Peter said, almost as if it were being recited from memory. Tony narrowed his eyes at Peter, making a mental note to keep the two away from each other. It was bad enough when Rhodey was around telling college stories, he didn't need Pepper rubbing off on him too. 

"I'll keep that in mind," he lied. 

"Oh and Mr. Stark? You should take Nat to dinner. Somewhere fancy, too. Like super fancy. With wine and steak or whatever rich people eat, if she likes that kind of thing."

"What? Why?" Tony asked. 

Peter rolled his eyes. "I don't know. If she asks why you can tell her that it's for helping me with self-defense or something," Peter said. "I don't know why she would ask though."

"No I mean why am I taking Natasha to dinner? I thought we were doing subs tonight?"

"We can do them tomorrow."

"What about you? Photosynthesis? Filter feeding?"

"I've fed myself before, believe it or not. I've even used a stove," he said with faux pride. "My Aunt used to work weird hours and even if I don't find anything to make, I can just order something in."

"We always eat together."

"I'm not going to die if you guys miss dinner one time." 

"I don't know if-" Tony started to protest against but Peter cut him off.

"Come on. You haven't seen her in a week. Take her to dinner. You know you want to," Peter goaded in a sing-song voice. Tony's eyes narrowed, but Peter knew he was winning before Tony even opened his mouth. 

"Fine, but only if you ask Steve about your project. I swear if you come to the workshop whining about it one more time I'm taking away your passcode," Tony said. 

"You threaten to ground me a lot," Peter observed, picking at a piece of string hanging from one of his old socks. He had newer ones but he didn't feel tight wearing them. At least on the weekends he'd convinced the others he didn't want to ruin his new clothes. "Especially for someone who claims I'm already a princess locked away in the tower."

"Too ugly to be a princess. Maybe like a very valued handmaid or something," Tony shot back. 

Peter's mouth dropped and he laughed loudly. "Ouch. I'd be a sexy handmaid."

"I'm sure." 

Tony smirked, and his chest eased. At least he wouldn't be leaving Peter the way he found him. Maybe Tony was as bad as Natasha. He made a dramatic show of looking at his watch and sighed. 

"Okay, kid. I really need to get started on my errands for today if I'm going to take Nat to dinner." Stark hoped with everything he had that Peter wouldn't ask him to specify what errands he needed to work on. "If you need me, you know my number. If I don't answer, just tell JARVIS and he will relay back to you." 

"Okay. See you, Mr. Stark," Peter said. Tony gave him one last small nod and shut the door behind him. 

Peter took a breath, laying back down on the bed, trying to push back the beginnings of a headache caused presumably by his apparent emotional whiplash. It was insane how much he'd relaxed in the short time Tony had been in the room. How did he go from shaking, angry and terrified to making jokes? He was depending way too much on this guy. 

How could he not? Tony was great. Probably not the mot stable person in the world, but honestly that probably just made Peter like him more. Peter knew Tony was smarter than him, and he’d probably never reach Tony’s potential, but he related to the man in ways he couldn’t really articulate. 

Peter closed his eyes and rested his arms across his face. He really hoped they had a good time. They deserved a night of no hydra-Peter-bull crap. It was worth the price of eating alone if he could get them to stop being so oblivious. If this is what being socially smart felt like, MJ must really hate hanging around Peter and Ned. This was almost painful to watch. 

Speaking of painful...

Peter groaned, pulling his pillow over his face. How the hell was he going to ask Steve?

****

Steve punched the weighted bag in front of him, each blow reverberating up his arm, a slight pinch starting to form in between his joints. Instead of slowing him, the pain spurred him on, his jabs becoming more quickly, more erratic, until he could feel the skin of his knuckles splitting open. 

Four days. It had been four days since they'd fought in that dingy old hotel room, and four days since Bucky last really talked to him. It wasn't that Steve hadn't tried to reach out, but the only person Bucky seemed to be able to tolerate was Sam. Steve was grateful that Bucky was at least talking to someone, but it didn't make the hurt that it wasn't him any less potent. 

It was obvious to Steve by Bucky's retreat earlier that morning that he still wasn't ready to talk. For the life of him, Steve couldn't figure out what is was they were fighting about. Bucky said it wasn't Stark, which he wasn't entirely convinced wasn't true, but if it was, the only other person he could think of that Bucky could be mad about based on their conversation was Peter. How could Bucky be mad about Peter though? It wasn't like the kid had done anything wrong. 

Steve wanted to talk to someone. If this was a year ago, Steve might have contemplated talking to Tony. Yeah, it sounded weird now, but Tony was the opposite of Steve and way smarter than Steve would ever vocalize to the man's face. That was why they'd worked so well together. It seemed that in the areas that Steve needed the most help, Tony was always the most qualified to give advice, and vice versa. Not that he'd come to Steve nearly as many times as the opposite was true. Tony was not the nicest person to go to, but however he got the point across, it always seemed to help. 

He couldn't go to Tony though. How could he ask Tony for anything ever again, knowing what he'd done? Steve itched to go running again, but pushed the feeling away. He couldn't keep running his feelings out, no matter how much it worked to block away his thoughts. 

Steve's second thought was to talk to Sam, but he was going to his group counseling session in an hour, and Natasha was leaving with Stark. Besides, Sam and Natasha were the only once's Bucky was comfortable around, so he didn't want to talk to them and make him feel like he had nobody to go to, but that left Steve with nobody to go to too. 

Steve gritted his teeth. He just wanted Bucky. 

Flashes of his best friend only inches from his face filled his mind, some of them a younger Buck, short haired and clean shaven, glancing up at him with blue grey eyes as he tended to Steve's wounds before he went home, checking for pain or discomfort while he worked. His old Bucky, who was always too worried about Steve breaking he wouldn't let him finish a single fight for himself. The Bucky Steve dreamed about every night when Bucky left to join the army, and the Bucky he tore through an enemy camp single handedly to get back. Bucky, his best friend, who pushed Steve to get out there and live, knowing in his heart that Steve probably wouldn't make it to 30, war or no war. Joke was on him, he guessed. 

Others, more often than not, showcased the new Bucky. The Bucky that knew what Steve was capable of, and looked up to him for guidance and strength, for once. The one who pushed Steve and fought him when he thought it necessary, but still had his back no matter what. The Bucky that was as broken as he was, but still managed to keep all the fire and sarcasm that Steve always admired. The image of Bucky within a breath's distance in the motel, angry and powerful and beautiful...

Steve's frustration morphed into something deeper, his anger surging as he slammed his full weight into his next punch, breaking the bag free from its chain and sending the bag flying into the wall. He glared at it as it laid on the floor, wishing for the first time in a long time that he was back in his tiny little house in Brooklyn with his mom, the familiar smell of bland chicken and home grown veggies filling the room. He wished he could perch himself on the counter one last time, as he did so many times growing up, to ask his mom about her day while she cooked, only to have her swat him playfully with the dish towel for being a nuisance. 

He crouched down, rocking back on his heels and sitting down on the cold, hard gym floor, his chest heaving and aching, and rested his forehead on his arms as they rested across his knees. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and regretted the decision when he noticed they were red with blood. 

It took a few minutes, still, for Steve to gather the motivation to pull himself off the ground and into the shower. He lathered himself with his favorite body wash, imagining washing away all the sweat and blood and unwanted emotions with each scrub, trying not to wonder what today was going to be like, or what he was going to do to pass the time. When did he become so dependent on Bucky? 

The thought honestly never occurred to him before now, or if it did, he'd never had a reason to see it as a negative thing. Bucky was his best friend. It only made sense that he would want to spend most of his time with him, but now that he couldn't...

Steve cut off the water, and as he walked through the steam back to his locker, his mind drifted to Peter, his face warming slightly. He didn't really know Peter as well as the others did, but it seemed like every memory they did have together showed a different side of Peter. He couldn't help but like Peter's quirkiness, and it was refreshing to be around someone who was so bright and optimistic, even with all the pain he'd been carrying around. He remembered the softness in Natasha's face, and the pride in Tony's as he talked about Peter's new spider camera recording device. Even Rhodey and Bruce seemed to be taking to the kid, and they'd only known him a few days. Peter seemed to bring out the best in everyone. 

Well, not everyone.

That train of thought wouldn't benefit anyone, so he kept his thoughts on Peter. As much as he liked the kid, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was still some air to clear between them. The night before they left, Steve wanted to assure Peter that everything was fine between them after Peter voiced his fear that Steve was mad at him, but they ended up getting off topic. He blushed even harder. I would've paid to let Captain America drop a truck on me. What did that even mean? 

Steve finished pulling on his clothes and picked up the pocket compass out of his locker, opened it up to look at the brunette beauty tucked away inside briefly before closing it again and shoving it into his pocket. The longing in his chest returned tenfold, and it was enough to make him breathless. He remembered when he thought being sick was hard, and that forcing himself to crash a plane into the ocean was terrifying and lonely. Neither were anything compared to his life now. How did everything get so complicated? 

Steve huffed in annoyance at the weak thoughts and shook them away, letting Peter take the forefront again. 

Steve wished he had an excuse to talk to him again, but he wasn't sure what they would even talk about if he could. It's not like they had a lot in common, from what he'd seen so far. They weren't even on the same level. That thought was a little disheartening if Steve was being honest. Peter was as smart as Tony, if not smarter, if Tony himself were to be believed, and he was always saying things about stuff he didn't understand. Apparently Steve was a Gryffindor, for one thing. He wondered if Peter meant that as a compliment. He'd have to ask Natasha. 

Then Steve remembered the kid's offer. When Steve told Peter about his list, the kid said he wanted to have a movie night so Steve could watch that Star Wars show. Maybe he could convince him to do it today instead, since almost everyone else had already seen it anyway. If he was going to learn all of this pop culture stuff, Peter seemed to be the right person to go to. He should ask JARVIS to check if Peter is up, then the he could relay the idea to Peter and-

Steve knocked his forehead against the locker, groaning internally. He was hiding from Bucky behind a 17 year old boy he barely even knew. This was stupid. What was he even thinking?

"Rough morning?" Tony asked, leaning on the doorframe, his arms crossed against his chest. 

"A bit, yeah," Steve admitted, not that he had much of a choice. He was caught red-handed. He turned toward Tony, quirking his head, searching for injuries. "Everything okay?"

It was kind of an unspoken (and unfortunate) rule that everyone stuck to their normal training routines, as to not run into each other. Steve, Bucky, Sam and Nat didn't live at the Tower much during the first few months after Siberia, mostly staying busy with recon missions, but when they did stay, they were smart enough to avoid confrontation. Even Natasha, who'd been the liaison between them, kept her distance. She learned her lesson when Pepper tore into her after trying to visit Stark in the medical bay. 

Tony nodded, shuffling one foot against the floor. "Yeah, everything's good. Well, same as usual," he corrected. 

Steve noticed the spare shirt in Tony's hands. 

"Come down here to work out? Because I could spar with you if you need a partner," Steve offered, his voice coming out sounding much more hopeful than he wanted it to. He tightened his grip on his bag, ready to put it back down on the ground, but hesitated at the unreadable expression on Tony's face. "Or I could leave. Whatever you want."

"I think you and I both know I'm getting too damn old to be kicking your ass. Or getting my ass kicked, for that matter. Too bad for my ego and Peter crushes it enough as it is."

"Oh," Steve said, his brows furrowed. He bit the inside of his cheek uncertainly. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, uhm, talking to me but is there any particular reason you came down?"

"Actually, yeah. Me and Nat are going to be busy this afternoon, and Bruce is probably going to be making goo-goo eyes at Loki through a portal every chance he gets since we will be busy working on the device tomorrow. I was going to see what you'd be up to today."

Steve pauses, quirking his head. "Nothing that I can think of. I was going to try to spend some time checking Hydra sources, but until we get into those files and make sure there isn't any other pertinent intel on them, it could be a waste of time," Steve explained. He looked at the shirt in Tony's hand again, then to the fancy suit Tony was wearing. "Aren't you going to Oscorp?"

"Yeah. Which is why you, the only free member of the dream team, are on Peter Peeping duty," Tony thought for a moment then shook his head in distaste. "Never mind. That sounds weird and disturbing. Forget I called it that, but you know what I mean."

"You want me to watch Peter?" Steve asked, wondering not for the first time if Tony could read his mind. What were the odds he was just considering talking to Peter then Stark springing this on him. It was mind reading or the world was playing a very insensitive cosmic joke on him. "I doubt he agreed to a babysitter. And why are you dressed up so much?"

Tony waved his question away, choosing to ignore it. He didn't dress up that much more than usual. He was surprised Steve even noticed the difference. "You aren't babysitting. Just keeping tabs. That sounds better, right? Besides, the kid wants to ask for help with something with school."

"I'm not sure how much help I could be. You and Bruce are the smart ones," Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"He doesn't need us, he needs you, and if I'm being honest, I don't really want you to turn him down, so whatever you want I'll give it, just help the kid, okay?"

Steve still looked a little uncertain. "You're not really giving me a lot of information."

Tony's face dropped a little and Steve regretted saying anything. He should have just agreed. "He's having a hard time, I think. It may have been because of the stuff I said yesterday morning. I just need to make sure he's okay."

Steve nodded, and put his backpack on his back, looking away from the small show of vulnerability from his old friend, knowing he probably didn't want Steve to see it. "Okay. I'll go put my things away and ask if he wants to eat lunch or something together.

"If you aren't busy until then, would you mind helping me out with one more thing?" Tony asked. "It seems I'm in need of a super soldier to move some stuff for me. I'd usually just use the suit, but I'm on a time crunch."

"Uhm sure. Where do I start?"

Almost two hours later, Steve was pouring sweat, dropping the last of the seemingly endless black blocks onto the floor outside the new training room. If he'd known he was going to get such a good workout from Tony's favor, he wouldn't have gone to the gym at all that morning. 

"That the last of them?" Tony asked. 

Steve nodded, gulping down the entire water bottle that Natasha offered him. 

"Yeah. This for that thing you're building?" Steve asked breathlessly, resting his hands on his hips. 

"Yep. Should be done by tomorrow, but I'll still have to take a day or so to run a few dozen tests before it can be used but it’s getting there," Tony said, voice straining as he adjusted his grip on a box and carried it to the table across the room. 

Tony started working on this before they'd even left, having recruited Steve, Sam, Bucky, Rhodey and Natasha after the meeting to ask them for their help moving some boxes. He didn't specify what was in them, but he said it was for a new training room. Stark had a tendency to go full out on everything but this had to be excessive even for him. Steve's eyes drifted to the door curiously. 

"Don't bother asking," Natasha said, reading Steve's mind. "I tried to sneak in there earlier and almost got my head bitten off. Apparently-"

"Nobody sees it until Peter sees it," Natasha and Tony said at the same time. Despite Natasha's put upon tone, her eyes were dancing in amusement.

"Except Bruce because like I said I'm on a time crunch and he needed to at least see the bare bones of it to help with my calculations," Tony said. "Now come here, Cutie McCuteFace and help me work on this panel. Your hands are smaller."

Natasha had to actively work to suppress a grin. "Fine, but your nicknames are getting worse, Stark. I don't think I've ever been accused of being cute."

Tony shrugged, squinting at her playfully, but taking in every detail of her face. "I don't know. Once you get past the whole 'she could kill me in half a second with a spoon' thing, I find you pretty adorable."

Tony knew he was laying the humor on a little thick, but not seeing her for over a week made him realize how fast he'd come to falling back into their friendship, and other feelings, and he decided that he absolutely was having none of it. He couldn't fall back into the cycle again, not if he was going to give the Avenger thing another shot. (How far he'd come in just two weeks.)

So Tony tried to avoid her when she got back, knowing his capacity for dealing with complicated emotions was currently filled by his growing relationship with Peter, but didn't make it far with his endeavor. It only took one day. One time of her showing up in the lab, wondering why he didn't come down to dinner with her and Peter with big, sad green eyes before he caved, spilling out an excuse about having a big lunch and assuring her that he'd be there in the morning for breakfast. Tony berated himself for an hour last night as he laid in bed, contemplating all the places he went wrong in life before he finally forced himself to sleep. He knew that falling for her made him look weak and stupid, but he couldn't help himself. She was like a magnet: a brilliant, terrifying, beautiful as sin magnet. Okay. So, bad metaphor. Whatever. Point still stands. If he couldn't avoid those feelings, well. He'd make a joke out of them. He was good at that, at least. 

Natasha fought the urge to look away in embarrassment, instead composing her face into a patiently amused mask, one she usually reserved for Clint. "Careful, Stark. You might make me blush."

Steve, who had all but been forgotten until that point picked up a box, and blushing himself muttered, "Pretty sure you already are, Nat." 

Both of their eyes shot to him, seemingly remembering that he still existed simultaneously. 

"Should I-?" Steve asked slowly edging himself closer to the elevator door, awkwardly. 

Tony smirked at his unease, and Natasha cleared her throat, leaning against the table crossing her arms. "No. I wanted to have a little chat with you, actually."

Tony quirked his head, then looked to Steve. Steve met his questioning look with a very concerned half-shrug. That was helpful. 

"Is everything okay?" Steve asked, feeling a bit of deja vu from having asked the same question earlier this morning. 

"I'm not sure. You tell me," Natasha said, cryptically. 

"What's this about, Nat?" Steve asked, working to keep his voice steady. 

Natasha stared at him for a moment, her face impassive. Then her expression softened, trying to look sympathetic.

"I think Bucky needs to be benched for the next few missions."

"What?" Tony squawked. "You can be serious. He's like the Hydra-Whisperer. He's the only one that knows their tech. Not that I should really have an opinion, you know, since I'm not going on missions but are you really going to rely on gramps here or Sam to navigate through the bases? I'm sure you could probably figure it out, but I'm pretty sure you're the one carrying the team as it is-"

Natasha pulled on the edge of Tony's shirt, giving him a meaningful glare. It clearly said 'shut up' and 'you're fine' and 'calm down' all at once. He wasn't sure how any of the three could be achieved when she seemed to be wanting them to run around Hydra bases without their Ex-Hydra buddy. "Tony. Aren't you on a time crunch?" 

Tony pouted, putting down the equipment he was working on to free his hands. 

"Aren't you supposed to be the nice one?" Tony asked, feigning hurt. "I mean, I did just call you adorable."

Natasha was going to let it slide, ignore him and just continue what she was doing, but the fear that he was making a joke out of genuine hurt made her turn away from Steve. Tony's eyes flitted to her lips where she mouthed her thoughts to him, then to Steve, then realization seemed to dawn on him. Tony looked torn but eventually he gave her a small nod. 

"It probably wouldn't be the worst idea," Tony agreed, slowly. 

"What?" Steve asked, his voice hard. "How can you say that after everything you just said?"

Tony shrugged, falling back into his usual casual indifference. "I thought I was right, then I learned I was wrong, so I opened my mouth and new words came out. I thought you knew how that worked."

"Why? What did you say to him?" Steve demanded, stepping toward Natasha. 

"I said that obviously Bucky can't handle the field right now. He hasn't been out of his room since yesterday, and even before we got back he hardly talked to anyone. He needs a break," Natasha said, her voice laced with concern. "I think it's too much for him."

"It's not too much for him. He's been on countless missions!" Steve argued. "He's stronger than I am by far. I'll have his back, you guys don't have to worry.”

"He's been through a lot. Nobody is looking down on him for needing a bit of stability for a while," Tony added. "Until he's better, you may as well face it. The Dynamic Duo is done."

"Dynamic-" Steve questioned, then shook his head with a sigh. He really didn't want to talk about this. "This isn't Bucky being unfit for missions, or him needing a break. It's not about the mission at all."

"I know you want him in the field, Steve, but-"

Steve growled in frustration. 

"We are fighting, okay? It has nothing to do with Hydra. We had a disagreement about something.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. One moment everything was fine then the next he’s angry. I tried to talk to him about it this morning, but he was...” Steve stopped, noticing Natasha looking somewhere above his head, the hint of satisfaction on her face. "What are you looking at?"

Steve turned and heard a malcontented groan. 

"Fuck you, Steve. Why did you have to break first? I believed in you. Now I owe Nat twenty bucks," Clint pouted from somewhere in the rafters. 

Steve's face twisted in confusion, then he frowned, glaring at Natasha accusingly. "You weren't really pulling Bucky out."

Natasha had the decency to at least give him a genuinely apologetic smile. 

"No. But we could tell your upset and you need to talk to us about this stuff. It's not okay that you shoulder everything, and it seems like two of the three people you'd usually turn to aren't available. Am I wrong?" Natasha asked. 

His shoulders slumped a little but he still felt stupid. "Didn't have to make a bet out of it."

Clint dropped onto the ground with a thud, and patted Steve on the shoulder. "Nope. But where's the fun in that?"

“You can talk to us,” Natasha said. “We will be here whenever you’re ready.”

Steve sighed in resignation and Tony picked his schematics back up, pretending to study them intently. 

"He will get over it. He’s your best friend. Give it another day or two for him to calm down, then you guys can talk. Whoever needs to apologize will eventually," Tony said. 

Steve couldn't see the expression on Tony's face behind the large paper, but just hearing those words made it not feel so bad.

****

"Should I be worried?" Peter demanded as he and Bruce sat in the kitchen. He'd stewed in silence long enough. Sure, this conversation should have been with Tony, but since he was gone for the day, Bruce was going to have to do. His impromptu confrontation had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was a bundle of nerves from thinking about Steve and having Art Class with Steven the next day. "I mean, I feel like I should at least know that much."

Bruce peered over his glasses at Peter, his purple shirt buttoned crookedly, and his eyes bright against the dark circles beneath them. "Uhm. What?"

"Whatever you and Mr. Stark are doing," Peter said, impatiently. "I can see how exhausted you are."

"I'm fine. Nothing tea or coffee can't fix."

"That's not the point. You aren't the only ones who get worried. I don't want any of you guys hurt either. You know that right?"

Bruce looked uncomfortably at the clock, feeling Peter's heated gaze locked on him. It was only 11:30 and it would be at least a few more hours before Tony and Natasha were due back. Sam and Bucky were off somewhere, and he would be lucky to see Clint up before noon, so no help there. 

"Yes?" Bruce said, uncertainly. "We know."

"Great. Awesome. Super helpful," Peter huffed, throwing himself into the desk chair in the living room, letting it spin slowly as it rolled across the floor from the force. "Really. I'm feeling so assured."

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure-exactly-what you're wanting me to say," Bruce said, scratching the back of his neck. Peter didn't respond, his face contorted as he leaned his head back against the back of the chair and stared at the ceiling, turning slowly in his chair, back and forth. 

"Then where did he go?" 

Bruce frowned. Tony didn't tell the kid? That made sense. As much as the kid was wanting to help, he probably wouldn't back down on this one. 

"I know it's not Stark Industries," Peter continued. "I was out of it this morning, but after thinking about it, what he said doesn't make sense. Why would anyone tell Nat anything, especially when Tony was there? There's nothing he could do there that he can't do here. He's being so weird and now he's lying and I just know it's because of me."

Bruce debated trying to tackle this on his own, but what was he supposed to say? The last few days he'd gotten to where he kind of liked the kid, despite himself, and even if he didn't know Peter as well as the others, he knew Peter was sensitive about this stuff. If he told the kid it was nothing, he wouldn't believe him. If he told him it was something, but nothing dangerous, he would get pestered about what it was until Bruce ultimately caved. Bruce pursed his lips. He wasn't going to have Tony's wrath upon him because he said the wrong thing trying to comfort the kid, when that was definitely not his area of expertise. 

"JARVIS, can you ask how long Tony will be? He can talk to you when he gets back tonight."

Peter stopped the chair with his feet and sat up. "Oh no. Nope. JARVIS, override that order."

Bruce made a pained face. That sounded just like Stark. Even the face he was making was similar. Honestly, it was a bit creepy. And nightmare inducting. 

"Sorry, Peter. Dr. Banner ranks higher than you. Sir would like me to ask if you are in need of his assistance?"

Peter frowned, then looked to Bruce pleadingly. 

"I want to talk to you. Mr. Stark will just tell me not to worry about it, and Nat is so scared that I'm going to get taken away that every time I bring up Hydra outside of meetings she tries to shove food down my throat," Peter said, indignant. "I just need to know what's going on, Dr. Banner. If you guys aren't going to let me fight, I at least deserve to know if you aren't telling me something."

Bruce looked back up to the clock. Only three minutes had passed? Huh. 

"Tell Tony I've got it handled," Bruce said, despite feeling that he did not, in fact, have it handled. Peter seemed a little relieved, which was good, at least. 

"Like I said, I'm not really sure what you want me to say. We aren't keeping anything life threatening away from you," Bruce said, choosing his words carefully. He sat down the medical journal he'd been pouring over the last two days, and met Peter's eyes. "Tony has been busy working on something, but it is unrelated to Hydra. I can't tell you what it is, but I promise you that Tony is going to tell you about it soon."

Peter stared at Bruce for a minute then apparently buying his half-truths sighed, feeling a little ridiculous. "I don't know what's wrong with me today. Do you ever feel like you're not even yourself?"

Bruce gave him a withering look. "I'm sure I can imagine."

Peter took half a second too long to process that, then blushed profusely. "Right. Stupid question."

Bruce let a small smile creep on his lips. "Yeah. It was."

Peter actually laughed that time, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of his life. Peter couldn't help but think that May would have liked Bruce. Maybe not Tony at first, but definitely Bruce and Rhodey. Pepper would probably be her best friend. 

If she ever got the chance to meet them. Peter rubbed at his face, feeling more like it was closer to midnight than noon. 

Peter heard the sound of the elevator and stood from his spot on the couch, only mildly panicking. Bruce tried not to snigger behind his journal, but it was hard after having heard Peter randomly bring Steve up so many times the last week. 

~~~~~~~~~

Steve stepped onto the communal floor and was surprised to find Peter already waiting expectantly for him. A pair of old, tattered jeans hung slightly loose on his hips, and a faded blue and gold "Midtown High Freshman Decathlon" shirt seemed to make his brown eyes shine. They were wide with something like surprise or trepidation, lips parted slightly, and his hair was a mess of untidy curls on top of his head. 

Steve felt his heartbeat quicken in interest, but tried not to think about it. 

"Peter," he greeted. 

The one word seemed to pull Peter out of the mild panic he seemed to be experiencing, and he straightened. 

"Captain Rogers," Peter greeted back, his voice higher than usual. He would never get over how Steve looked with wet hair. "How was your work out?"

"Great," Steve breathed, hoping he didn't sound as unsure as he felt. "What are you up to?"

"I was actually about to order something to eat if you are hungry.”

"Sounds great. Thanks."

"Bruce, do you want some?" Peter asked. 

"Sure. I may have to eat it down in the lab, though. Loki should be calling again, soon."

"Loki? How's that going?" Steve asked, curiously.

Bruce was the first openly bisexual man Steve ever met. He'd heard that the people today were much more tolerant than the people he left behind, but when Bruce came back from his time with Thor with a very obvious crush on the man who'd planned to take over the world and no one so much as batted an eye, Steve was given a much better understanding of just how tolerant they were. It made this world a bit easier to live in. Not that Steve was sure he'd ever find anyone. 

"Good. He's with Thor working on something for Asgard, but he said he'd like to come visit everyone soon," Bruce said, blushing slightly. 

"That's great. You should tell him and Thor to let us know and we will have a Team Cookout like we used to."

"Really?" Peter asked, excitedly. He’d have to remember to ask Mr. Stark if he could invite Ned. 

Bruce smiled softly and nodded. "I'm sure they'd like that."

"Anything in particular you guys want for lunch?" Peter asked. "We should order soon or we are going to order in the middle of rush hour."

“I’m okay with anything, but I need to head back to the lab soon, so the sooner the better,” Bruce agreed. 

Steve thought about it for a minute then turned to Peter. "Why don't we order something we can eat in the living room? If you don't have anything else to do maybe we can watch a movie or something?"

"We? I thought Sam and Bucky weren't here today? And Clint said he's not waking up today unless the world is ending."

Peter heard Sam whisper something to Nat after the meeting about trying to convince Bucky to go to his counseling thing that he did for the Vets every other Sunday. He missed the last two weekends, so he wanted to make sure he went this week. 

Steve frowned. Bucky left? He was more than a little hurt by the revelation. 

"I'm not sure. Either way, I didn't mean all of us. I was hoping we could watch that Star Wars film together."

"Just us?" Peter asked, not sounding unsure, but he was rubbing his finger and thumb together at his side again. Steve laughed awkwardly, wishing he'd asked Peter about what he needed help with before making everything awkward. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was out of line-"

"No!" Peter interjected loudly. "I invited you to watch it, remember? I wasn't-I-I just thought I was going to have a really hard time getting you to talk to me then you just willingly asked to hang out with me and it's just weird and unexpected but good unexpected, don't get me wrong," Peter rambled, making Bruce wince from equal parts sympathy and second hand embarrassment. Peter was almost out of breath by the end of his spiel, motioning around with his hands in a way that was very Stark. He finally managed to reel himself in and took refuge falling back to the more familiar of the two men. "Uhm, Bruce? Would you be okay with Korean? I was going to ask if Steve wanted to try it."

Bruce brightened, excited to get his part of the conversation out of the way so he could leave. "Sure. If you don't mind ordering the #4 for me, I'll come pick it up when it gets here. Or you can send it down on the elevator. Clint's done it before."

Peter laughed. "I'm sure he has. That cool, Steve?"

Steve was surprised Peter remembered what was on Steve's list. In a good way, as Peter said. "Is it any good?"

"Oh my god, yes. Korean is the bomb. There's all kinds of different stuff to choose from," Peter said, pulling the top menu off of the stack and spreading it out on the counter. Peter may or may not have already been planning to bring it up before Steve even made it into the room. "There's pork, beef, chicken, all kinds of seafood. I know your list said BBQ, so if you want to stick with that, you can get that with whatever meat you want."

Steve looked at the menu, looking at everything as Peter pointed to it, a little overwhelmed at all the options. That was one thing that he loved and hated about modern society. No matter where you went, there were at least a dozen options for everything. Sometimes it was great, but others...

"Or I can order for you? If you want?" Peter offered. Steve's shoulder's sagged in obvious relief. 

"If you do, make him try the octopus!" Bruce said, pushing himself away from the table. He lifted a hand in goodbye, not wanting to be stuck in their nervous chatter any longer than he had to and started toward the elevator. "Don't forget my noodles."

"I won't!" Peter called after him. "You sure you want me to order? I don't have to."

"Yes, please. Thank you. I should warn you though-"

"You eat a lot?" Peter mused. "Yeah, I saw your 8 pancakes this morning. It's the enhanced metabolism. I have the same problem."

Steve hummed. It seemed their abilities had a lot in common. At least there was that. 

Peter stepped away to make the call and Steve popped open his sketch pad. He was about to start skimming his notebook to find the page he'd been working on the night before, but stopped himself. He could torture himself later. Instead, he turned on the personalized tablet Stark made him before the Accords. Steve wasn't sure how it was different from other tablets, but Stark assured him that it was the best tech on (well, off) the market. He still wasn't as skilled with it as he was with a pencil and and paper, but there were so many different things he could do, he could never quite put it away. 

Peter walked back over a few minutes later, only feeling slightly guilty over the outrageous food bill. Living with Mr. Stark was definitely an adjustment with all of the people and the crazy nice things, but being able to spend money without worrying was probably the biggest. Tony was probably tired of saying "don't worry about it" by now.

"I may have ordered a bit too much but I'm not going to complain if there's leftovers," Peter announced.

He stopped at the edge of the bar, watching as Steve's pen glided across the screen, moving back in forth in quick, precise movements. His eyes were bright, despite being narrowed in concentration, one piece of hair poking from its perfect wave and resting on his forehead. Peter was only gone maybe three minutes and there was already a beautiful silhouette of a city skyline, and he had already shaded several of the buildings with an amazing amount of detail. Steve looked up from the page in question, curious what made Peter stop, and the awed look on his face make Steve blush. 

Peter noticed and looked away from the page, embarrassed. "Sorry. I don't like people looking at my stuff until it's finished either."

"No, it's okay. I don't mind. You draw?" Steve asked, his heart jumping. Maybe he would finally have someone to talk to about it. 

"Not like that," Peter said, huffed light-heartedly. "That's-it's beautiful. I just sketch out some of my ideas sometimes. It's much more mechanical than artsy."

"I'm sure they're still great," Steve said, making Peter's cheeks warm. 

"Can I?" Peter asked, nodding to the tablet. Steve quickly handed it over before his nerves could convince him not to. 

The drawing was obviously of Manhattan, but it was a different Manhattan than he knew. There were buildings missing, and one or two short ones in the skyline he didn't recognize. He wondered if it was the Manhattan Steve grew up with, and how different it must have been than the one he'd grown up seeing. 

Something in Peter clicked and bounced a bit in his place. 

He knew what his project would be. 

~~~~

It took them a little bit to relax, Peter almost having had a heart attack when he was ONCE AGAIN forced to decide where the appropriate spot to sit was after setting up the movie, but he took the spot on the couch one cushion from Steve and he didn’t seem to mind. It only took 17 minutes for Peter to come to a realization he never expected to find. 

Steve Rogers was a mess. 

Not literally, of course. He was super orderly and structured, always dressed nicely even in casual wear. He liked his schedules and tried to stick to them as often as possible. He marked his leftovers in the fridge and always sorted the silverware in the dishwasher when it was his night to do dishes. But as a person, he was a total mess. 

It was way funnier than Peter expected, watching Steve eat his Korean food, staring at the TV, popping off questions and making comments throughout the entire movie. It may have been annoying to anyone else, but to see him look so childlike and excited over something Peter loved so dearly, he couldn’t help but grin every time. 

“And there are three of these?” Steve asked, in awe as the credits started to roll. 

“That’s just for this trilogy,” Peter said, matching his enthusiasm. “We don’t really talk about episodes 1-3 but I’ll make you watch them at least one time.”

Steve looked like he didn’t understand what Peter was talking about but it didn’t deter him. “Should we watch the second one? Or do you have something else to do?”

Peter shook his head. “No. I’m down for watching the second one. My Korean is kind of wearing off though.” He stood up and started collecting the mountain of empty boxes then shot Steve a shy smile. “Popcorn?” 

Steve grinned back and held up the remote. “Sounds perfect. I’ll find the next movie.” 

A few minutes later Peter emerged with a big bag of popcorn, two little bowls, a bottle of Valentina, and two waters. Without thinking, he twisted the cap until it popped open and held it out to Steve. It wasn't until he saw Steve blink in confusion that Peter flushed in embarrassment, realizing what he'd done. 

Captain America didn't need help opening his water bottle. God. So stupid. Thinking about May was really messing with him. 

"Sorry, I don't know why I did that," he muttered. 

Steve laughed, then looked a little sheepish. "No it's okay. Bucky did that to my beers for like a month after we got him back. I used to not be able to open them."

Peter felt a rush of excitement at the mention of Steve's past life, but managed to push it down. Steve probably got asked about that stuff all the time. Steve didn't owe his backstory to anyone, no matter how interested Peter was. 

"I can see Bucky doing that. He acts pretty protective over you," Peter said. Then trying to soften the little like that appeared between his eyebrows he added. “Even if you’ve gotten a bit stronger since then.”

“Yeah. A little." Steve chuckled into his water. “Uh, what’s that for?”

Peter followed his gaze and beamed, picking up the bottle of Valentina. “This, Mr. America, is the pinnacle of popcorn topping cuisine.”

“It’s hot sauce,” Steve deadpanned. 

“It’s delicious.”

Peter poured some popcorn into his bowl and added the Valentina on top, then held it out. “Come on. Can’t dock it til you try it.”

“It smells weird.”

Peter sat on the couch and shook the bowl at him again, and Steve relented with a sigh, picking up a bright red, soggy piece of popcorn. He studied it for a moment, crinkling his nose, and with one last unsure look at Peter, he popped it in his mouth. It was way worse than he expected. It was salty and hot and vinegary and wet. Steve managed not to choke or gag, but only barely. He quickly chased the flavor away with a few gulps of water, leveling peter with a glare as Peter laughed, popping a few pieces in his own mouth. 

“Drama Queen! It’s not that bad.”

“It was horrible, and I’m not dramatic,” Steve argued, amused.

“Sure you’re not.”

“You know, that’s a funny accusation coming from Tony’s protégé.”

“Touché,” Peter granted, smirking. “Sure you don’t want another piece?”

Steve rolled his eyes and tossed a piece of popcorn at Peter. Without so much as blinking, Peter leapt forward, catching it in his mouth. 

“Ya-da!” He said with a flourish of his hands, the popper kernel between his teeth.

Steve grinned. “Impressive.”

Peter felt his heart skip a beat. He just made Steve Rogers smile. God if he didn’t want to make him do it again.

“I know,” he said smugly. “I can teach you. It’s a very important life skill.”

“I’m sure. Are you saying you can do it again?” Steve challenged, eyes bright with mirth. 

“Bring it on.”

Steve threw another piece, then another, each piece getting increasingly more difficult to catch. Before they knew it they were both laughing uncontrollably at the ridiculous positions Peter was trying to catch the popcorn. When Peter was on the floor bent backward into a half bridge, his hands resting on the back of his calves, he caught sight of Clint and Bruce watching them, each of them wearing similar looks of confusion. 

Peter blanched and flung himself into the upright position, stumbling forward only just catching himself from hitting the wall, the popcorn Steve just released bouncing a few times before settling on the floor. 

“No!” Steve cried out, laughing so hard he was almost bent backward himself. “What happened? You were doing so good!”

Peter flushed, no longer looking at Steve but awkwardly around the room, rubbing the back of his neck. Steve sobered, quirking his head in question, and Peter nodded behind him. Steve turned to look and flushed an equally bright shade of red. 

“Banner. Clint. What are you guys doing?” Steve asked, working to compose himself. 

“Checking on you two. I thought you guys were watching Star Wars,” Bruce said, slowly.

“Is that what they’re calling it now?” Clint smirked, holding his hand out to Bruce for a high five. Bruce ignored him. 

“We watched the first one,” Peter muttered.

“We were about to watch the second one, but we got distracted.”

“I see.”

Clint grinned. “Distracted? Steve Rogers? Ha! Natasha is going to love this.”

Bruce sighed, a little piece of his soul exiting his body. “Yeah. Probably.”

“He is extremely good at catching them,” Steve said, defensively. “You should try it.”

“Now who’s the circus freak?” Clint murmured with a grin. “That’s actually not a bad idea. We could call you the Amazing Spider-Man. Popcorn kernel lights bordering the sign. You could do some little flips and stuff like at the airport.”

“It seems like you’ve already thought about this a lo,” Peter spoke slowly. “I’m not joining a circus.”

Clint shrugged. “Fine. Have it your way.” 

He plopped down on the couch Steve and Peter were sitting on casually, one leg on the couch, the other foot planted on the floor. He stretched his arms over the back of the arm of the couch, then looked for the remote. Once he found it, he turned to the TV, making the cursor hover over the play button. When nobody moved, he frowned, craning his head to look around at the three of them. “What? Are we not watching it?”

Peter huffed out a laugh, shrugging. “Sure.”

Peter couldn’t help but stare in awe as Steve took the seat right beside him. Steve gave him a small smile, then turned to the seat on his other side.

“Hands off my popcorn, Clint.”


	9. Way Down We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Natasha visit Norman Osborn.  
> Peter and Steven work on their project.  
> Steve and Bucky have a talk.

Norman Osborn. 48 year old Chemist, electrical engineer, and business man. He was smart, sure, but Tony was not a fan.

Admittedly, in their youth, the guy hadn't been too bad. Tony ran in to him at some of his dad's extravagant parties and at first they'd talked about nothing of actual importance. Then as time went by they discovered that they had more in common with each other than they originally thought, but it wasn’t until Norman witnessed Howard practically drag Tony outside and yell in his face for being an embarrassment that they became companionable. Norman could’ve left. It wasn’t his problem, but instead he sat outside with him and shared the six pack he'd bought off of one of the kitchen workers.

From that point on, if Tony knew Norman was coming, he would grab some of his dad's alcohol and they would bond over how crappy their dads were in the handicap stall of the bathrooms. When Tony saw the bruises Mr. Osborn left, Tony finally felt like he'd finally found someone in his dad's world he could breathe around.

Young Norman was still like all the other guys he'd grown up with; wealthy, affluent, and frankly a bit of a douche and that was to be expected, but unlike the others, he didn't enjoy spending all his parent's money gambling or hookers. Norman certainly didn't have as bad of a reputation as Tony did in his younger years. He was relatively well-rounded, and everyone had great expectations for him. However, where Tony seemed to get better as he got older, the opposite was true of Norman.

What started as a company with good intentions molded Norman into someone bitter, angry, and greedy. It was rumored that Norman framed his mentor and co-founder of Oscorp of embezzlement so that he could have sole ownership of the company. Cancelling promising trials on the basis that they wouldn't yield enough profit and hiring people to participate in trials he knew weren't ready for human testing was just the tip of the iceberg of problems that Natasha was able to dig up. It would be a PR nightmare if not for the bookoos of money he paid the media off with.

Tony was almost not surprised he was (probably) recruited by Hydra.

Walking through the building, he could feel heads turning in his and Nat's direction, whispers following them despite the disapproving looks they were getting from their superiors, and he almost wished they'd dressed in civvies, or at least less like themselves. Tony was used to the attention, but this was probably his least favorite kind (less loving, adoring fans, more angry rivals). Not that he was worried, per se. He'd been hated for a long time by a lot of people and knew that there was nothing these people could do to him he hadn't been through already.

Natasha, amazing little enigma that she was, took their circumstance lightly, almost as if she didn't noticed them at all. She walked as calmly and confidently as he'd seen her walk around Stark Tower, where he'd like to think she felt at home.

Norman's office made Tony snort out loud. If he'd been ask to draw what he imagined it to be like, people would have deemed him a psychic. It was basically a glorified hospital room with a desk. Fitting, he guessed, considering the research Norman's company did, but unsettling nonetheless.

Norman was wearing a tailored black suit with a pinstriped brown vest, probably trying to look sophisticated in the expensive ensemble but coming off just-well, boring. He stood from his desk as they entered, wearing a smile that was just this side of too enthused.

"Tony Stark. It's been a while."

"Yep," Tony agreed popping the p sound. "Nice place you've got here. Very white."

"Yes, well. Unlike the designers at SI, we aim for a cohesive design," Norman replied. "How have you been? Still partying?

"Only when it suits me. What about you? Still kissing ass to get what you want or are you finally the one bending over?"

Norman ignored the jab in favor of turning his attention to Natasha, his eyes wandering over every inch of her black dress. Tony wanted to punch his lights out, but settled for rolling his eyes. Damn pervert. "Hello dear. I apologize for my rudeness. I'm Norman Osborn. You must be Ms. Rushman, the secretary."

Natasha smiled politely, taking his outstretched hand, searching the room with wide doe-eyes. "Natalie. Nice to meet you, Mr. Osborn. You'll have to excuse Tony. Pepper said she'd worked on his manners but I've yet to see if it's done any good."

Norman chuckled. "He's been like that for years. Don't apologize on his behalf."

"Yeah, wouldn't want you to choke on it," Tony muttered. Natasha fought away the twitch in her cheek, forcing her smile grow slowly as she met Norman's eyes.

"Well, I think your building is very pretty. I don't think I've ever seen an office like this. Everything is so open and bright."

Norman seemed to like that, straightening his tie in pride. "I'm flattered you think so. I'd gladly give you a tour of the rest of the building, but I'm sure that's not why Mr. Stark's CEO was so adamant we got in touch."

Tony crosses his legs sliding his sunglasses up into his messy hair, and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Afraid not. We had some questions for you about your project on cross-species genetics. So. If you could just hand over all your files and anything else that could be relevant, we will go merrily on our way."

Norman tsked, smiling mockingly. "Tony. You know I can't divulge any details about our current projects. If you would like to read up on it yourself, however, there is a link on our site that walks you through our company pledge and an overview of all the facts dispensable to the public. Outside of that, I'm not sure how I can help."

"Cut the crap, Norman," Tony said, his voice dropping an octave. "I know you are working on something big and knowing you, possibly nefarious."

"Nefarious?"

"Yes. Nefarious. As in something wicked or criminal."

Natasha noted the slight twitch between Norman's brows, a minute straightening in his posture, the placing his hands on the arms of his chair. He was hiding something. Those tiny movements felt like a victory in itself.

"Tony," she chastised, pulling on his sleeve, eyes flashing angrily. "Don't be rude. If he can't tell us, he can't tell us. That doesn't mean he's doing anything bad. It's just like how you can't tell me about all those little gadgets you work on."

Tony glared back at Natasha, and Norman seems to relax, a small smirk on his face. It was so like Tony to aim far beyond his reach. He couldn't even keep his arm candy under control.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Osborne. I told him not to bring that up. There was a reason I was hoping to have this meeting with you alone, but seeing as he's the owner of the company.." Natasha sighed. "There wasn't much I could do to stop him."

"I have a right to know what is going on," Tony barked.

"I never said you didn't," she snapped back, then shifted her voice into a louder than necessary whisper. "Now, if you can't control yourself long enough to tell Mr. Osborn why we're actually here, I'll set up a new appointment where you will be replaced by Pepper."

"No need to call me, Mr. Osborn. It's Norman," he interjected, clearly amused at the exchange. "I would love to hear what brings you here today now, though. My schedule is incredibly full, as you're well aware."

Natasha flushed pink, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Of course. I'm so sorry. If you don't mind us taking a seat Mr-uhm, Norman," she corrected herself.

Norman waved at the seats in front of him and Tony, tight-lipped and seething, took the seat next to Natasha.

Natasha bit her lip, looking a bit frazzled as she looked through her bag, mumbling apologies until she finally pulled out a folder, holding it out to Norman. He took it easily and skimmed the paper, looking more and more dubious the further along he got. Natasha kept a fake, optimistic smile plastered to her face.

"The Stark-Osborn Cooperative Internship," he read out loud, then dropped the file onto the desk. Natasha winced at the loud slapping sound. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I understand. What exactly are you hoping to achieve here?"

Natasha took a deep breath to steel herself. "I'm sure you are aware that Stark Industries took a major I'm financial hit when Mr. Stark decided to cease the manufacturing of military weapons."

"I am."

Tony rolled his eyes beside her.

"Despite the fact that we are continuing to put out some of the most advanced technology for day to day use, between our public image and our primary source of income remaining in deficit in comparison to what SI was making before the loss of our weapons program, we are not where we would like to be as a company. We were hoping that with the merging of brilliant minds from both Oscorp and SI, we can not only mend the tarnished image of Stark Industries, we can begin projects together that wouldn't be possible otherwise. SI is home to the brightest minds in mechanical engineering, physics, and chemistry. Mix that with the amazing chemists and physiologists of Oscorp, and who knows what we could accomplish!"

Norman watched her with a mixture of amusement and fascination. The young woman certainly had fire, that was for sure. Too bad it was going to waste with Stark. He leaned forward in his chair.

"Natalie, as much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I don't see how Oscorp would benefit from this arrangement. It seems to me that SI is trying to cover their own hide. Even if SI were able to improve upon our ideas, they would still be our ideas. You would be taking credit for something we've worked on for years. Now that we are on the cusp of discovering how to achieve cross-species modifications, SI wants to sweep in and take the credit," Norman said.

"Like we need your ideas," Tony snapped. "You haven't put anything innovative in years. Nothing impressive, anyway. You say you've got these amazing ideas, but if your company is so great, why haven't we seen anything?"

Norman gritted his teeth, standing from his chair, making it roll backward. Tony mirrored the action, puffing out his chest.

"We aren't trying to take ideas," Natasha said hurriedly trying to diffuse the situation. "We are going to treat the internship as its own entity. No information sharing will occur from either company."

"Don't bother," Tony spat at Natasha. "Brainless here can't see past his own agenda. Too bad he doesn't care this much about his kid. Did you hear he got kicked out of every private school in the area? Guess being a dick runs in the family."

Apparently that had the reaction Tony wanted. Norman flew across the desk, and Natasha gasped, stumbling backwards, managing to pull his laptop across the desk with the motion of his lunge, making it look as if he'd done it himself. Tony suited up instantly, his prototype nanobots climbing up his body at the perfect time, shielding him from the first punch.

Natasha plugged in the drive, and clicked the button on her phone, allowing JARVIS to take over from there, hacking into all of the files from his personal computer, along with any files linked to the company hard drive.

"Tony stop! Please! Tony!" Natasha yelled.

Norman tossed another punch, but Tony encapsulated his fist with his gauntlet.

"Ooo, Norman. Did I strike a nerve?"mm  
Tony threw Norman's fist away from him, causing him to lose his balance.

"If you don't want people poking fun at your little delinquent, maybe you shouldn't be checking out my secretary."

Norman growled, throwing another punch that Tony easily evaded.

"Fuck you, Stark," he growled. "You're one to talk. I'm sure your dad is rolling in his grave."

Tony scoffed. "Pretty sure dead people can't roll around. Not on their own anyway. Aren't you supposed to be smart?"

Norman rammed his shoulder into Tony's stomach, making him fall back a few steps. Tony quickly grabbed him by his shoulders and pinned him against the wall, not wanting to break the dude, but getting really tired of getting punched at. Norman cackled, despite the position.

"To have his legacy turn out to be a washed up alcoholic playing in a superhero suit. It's a joke. You're nothing! You have nobody. Even your secretary hates you."

Tony's jaw twitched and he unconsciously glanced over at Natasha. For a moment he forgot what they were doing, where he was, the fact that Norman freaking Osborn's overpriced suit was crinkling in his fists, and the soft look on Natasha's face became everything. He knew it was probably just his imagination the fondness he saw in her eyes, the understanding and comfort she was offering a just a misfiring in his brain caused by stress, but he held on to it, and it was surprisingly warm.

Then the moment was over.

Natasha gave him a curt nod, flipping her palm over and back around, giving him just a flash of the drive and Tony focused his attention back on Norman. As much as he wanted to argue and yell and punch his stupid little face in, Tony shook his head.

"You know what? You're wrong. Better yet, you're scum and you're not worth my time or my company's."

Tony dropped Norman's hands, slamming him against the wall one more time before disabling the bot suit and storming out.

Natasha hurried to his side, attempting to help pull him to his feet. "I am so sorry, Mr. Osborn. If you send over a bill for any damages we will sort them out, I swear," Natasha practically begged, her hands shaking.

"I would hope so," Norman said as he yanked his arm away from her, then worked on smoothing out his his suit. He walked around his desk and grabbed the file Natasha gave him. "Take this. I won't be needing it."

He tossed it across the desk and it slid off the edge, forcing Natasha to scramble to collect it and all the papers that fell to the ground. Natasha hurriedly put them together, all while trying to juggle her bag, the falling papers and her phone all at once. She finally threw what was left of her dignity away and shoved everything in the bag, wrinkles be damned. Norman watched on, a blank expression on his face. She looked up at him from her spot on the floor and sighed.

"I really am sorry. I wish we'd met under different circumstances." She used the chair to pull herself up, a little wobbly on her heels, then forced a smile. "Thank you for your time."

For the first time since the file was brought out, Norman looked at Natasha with something that looked like understanding. She turned to leave, but stopped just short of the door at the sound of Norman's voice.

"Ms. Rushman. If you ever decide you are done with being treated like a doormat, you should apply here. Maybe we could use that fire for something actually important."

Natasha, red faced and humiliated, considered his words before giving him a small nod and walking out the door.

Tony was already waiting outside the front entrance for Natasha when she stepped out, the laptop opened and sitting in its spot on the dash. She sunk into her seat with a contented sigh, handing the drive over to Tony and he plugged it in.

"Thanks. How'd I do?"

"Not bad," she commented, pulling her hair up and out of her face.

Tony pretended he hadn't heard her, reaching behind her seat and handing her a shoe box. "I, for one, thought I was brilliant. Acting never really was in my repertoire but good to know I can do pretty much anything I want."

Natasha lifted the lid off of the box to find a pair of sneakers and a pack of thick, soft socks. She ran her fingers over the fabric, smile impossibly large.

"You didn't think so before?"

"No, I did. It just enhanced my theory."

Natasha hummed, amused. She pulled off her heels and switched them out for her new socks and sneakers. "Norman offered me a job. He said you treat me like a door mat."

"Did you tell him you're too busy kicking Hydra ass with the Avengers? Because I feel that might be counterproductive."

"I did. Right after I told him we hacked all of his confidential information."

Tony clicked his tongue. "Yep. Confessions are always a segue to identity reveals. It's superspying 101."

"I'll keep that in mind. So what were you thinking for dinner? Or did we change our minds about sub night?"

The visualizer on the dash lit up, and JARVIS's voice came over the speakers. "Ms. Romanoff, I'm sorry to interrupt but it appears there is a file related to Mr. Parker on the drive."

Natasha and Tony both stiffened, and Tony's hands gripped the wheel, making the leather creak. Natasha laid a reassuring hand on Tony's thigh.

"Scan the file. Is there any information on the Aunt?"

JARVIS went quiet for a moment, searching the data. "There doesn't seem to any information on May Parker."

"What about Hydra?" Natasha asked. "Use file 616 to cross reference."

Tony's lip quirked up.

"According to the list of words commonly associated with Hydra that Mr. Stark compiled, there are 12 possible files that could be connected."

They drove in silence, both mulling over what they'd just heard. Tony's stomach felt full of lead but he finally shook his head.

"Nat I'm sorry but-"

"We need to figure this out. I know. We can have dinner another night."

Tony knew it was probably wrong of him to be thanking whatever gods did or didn't exist that Natasha wasn't like Pepper in this way, that Natasha understood what this life meant, but he was and he couldn't make himself feel bad about it.

"Thanks. I promise you the best dinner ever next time around."

"I'll hold you to it. Let's go see how much trouble Peter got up to while we were gone."

~~~~

It was a bit easier to go back to school on Monday knowing that everyone was at the tower, safe and sound, but Peter was having a harder time than he'd expected trying to keep his nerves under control in anticipation for art class. Sunday night he emailed the address on crumpled slip of notebook paper he'd almost managed to forget was deep in the pocket of his jeans to pitch his project idea, but it must have been too late at night because he never heard a response back. It took him hours of slaving away in the lab for Peter to finally draw up his idea and make it seem less stalker-y but not too mundane, and got frustrated because no matter what he changed, it felt a little too personal.

And hadn't even asked Steve for his help yet.

Peter almost died when he made it to his room that night and remembered he hadn't actually asked Steve's permission for the project. They'd ended up spending all afternoon together, but he somehow still managed to forget. He wished he would have asked before they watched the movie, but it felt weird to ask when they hadn't even ever hung out before. Then by the time they were halfway through with the second, Nat and Tony were back and everyone seemed too antsy to pay attention, so Peter suggested they finish it this weekend, any thoughts of the project gone, replaced by irritation. Peter thought that things were getting better between everyone but he must've been wrong.

Peter sighed as he scribbled down the notes on the board in Physics, trying to focus on the words his teacher was saying, but before he knew it, the class was over and he couldn't remember any details of what the lecture was about.

The bell rang and he walked through the halls as if there were cement in his shoes until he made it to the classroom. His eyes instantly met with Steven's, who looked far more excited by that fact than Peter felt, but he forced a smile anyway.

"Hey, Einstein. How's it going?"

"I'm alright." Peter paused, then after Steven seemed to be waiting for more, added, "A little tired, how about you?"

"I'm good. Great actually," he winked. "Just ready to get started on some serious art making."

Peter huffed quietly. That made one of them.

"Oh, and sorry I didn't message you back last night. I don't check my email very often," Steven said.

"Don't worry about it, we've still got a ton of time. But what did you think of the idea?" Peter asked, pulling out his art book and spiral.

"I'm not sure I really understand what you meant, if I'm being totally honest," Steven said sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not dumb, I swear, I just have a hard time imagining what you were thinking. It was kind of a lot."

Peter hesitated, looking down at his notebook.

"I'm not an artist or anything but I made a sketch if it will help you to see it," Peter said. Steven nodded, hopping over the bar connecting his desk to his chair before Peter could hand him his sketchbook. Peter visibly jumped in his seat, alarm wracking his body with adrenaline. He dug his nails into his jeans to restrain himself from punching Steven in the middle of the classroom, almost certainly bruising his thighs with his fingertips when Steven crouched down into Peter's space.

The page was a rough sketch, in some ways similar to the sketch Steve made the day before but instead of one Manhattan Skyline, there were two, the bottom skyline a mirror image of the top. There were rough, scribbled out buildings in black ink, more resembling a blob of looping in lines than the well drawn out details of Steve's work, and little notes and arrows pointing to various points on the page.

"Whoa," Steven said lowly, tracing his fingers over the page carefully. "And you're going to make that out of metal? That's awesome."

Peter forced himself to breathe through the jolt of panic and managed to pry one hand off of his thigh to pull a pencil out of his bag. "I'm not sure if I can find metal that would be light yet durable enough, honestly. I'm not sure what I'm going to use. I may use metal on the front part, then find something lighter for the bottom."

Steven pointed to the drawings at the top and center then the ones in the margins, Peter's frantic little notes indecipherable to anyone but Tony. "What are these?"

"I'm not sure how it's going to stay up," Peter admitted. "I played with the idea of having it hang from a wire, but then I'd have to make a stand for it to hang off of, and with how heavy it is I'm worried about the distribution of weight. Then here I was thinking maybe I could have it on a normal floor stand, and just try to make the bar through the center as unnoticeable as possible, but even then it would have to go through bottom model. The only other thing I could come up with is to have it set almost like a table, but I'll have to play around with the idea a bit more."

Steven stared at the page, his eyebrows pinched together in deep thought, and shook his head. "If you pull that off, I'll be seriously impressed."

The image of Steve doubled over in laughter on the couch the night before was still seared into his mind. He tapped his fingers on the desk, nibbling his bottom lip.

"Me too. Trust me."

"I have to ask, how exactly does this tie into World History? What am I supposed to be researching?"

Peter wasn't sure how to explain that part yet since he hadn't asked Steve's permission yet. "I know it's not exactly World History, but I imagined the top part being a model of what Manhattan looks like today, and the bottom part being what Manhattan looked like in the past, complete with models of cars that were popular at the time, maybe map out how many rail stations there were."

"Wow. You think you can get that done in just a few weeks?" Steven asked, looking skeptical. Peter shrugged.

"I'm hoping a lot of the smaller stuff I can make with a 3D printer, but yeah. I do," Peter said, confidently.

"Okay. What time period did you want me to look up?" Steven asked.

Another difficult question. How was he supposed to explain his random fascination with the 40's?

"How about I message you after school if the decade I have in mind works out."

"Sure. Is there anything we can start today?"

"Well, we have to turn in our ideas today. Do you want me to write all of this down for Mrs. Anderson, or you?"

Steven smirked, picking up Peter's notebook and waved it at Peter. "I've got it. Can't have you doing all the work right?"

Steven hopped back over the rail of his desk with more grace than what would be expected from his stocky build, and pulled out a slightly crinkled piece of paper, glancing at Peter's drawing occasionally as he wrote down the concept for their project and Peter brainstormed possible mounting ideas on a separate sheet of paper.

Unfortunately, Steven finished writing the proposal before the class was over, which Peter had sadly anticipated, and after turning in the sheet took the seat beside Peter, the usual owner of the seat sitting with their partner across the room.

"This okay?"

Peter gave him a tight lipped smile. "Sure. It's not my seat."

Steven bit back a grin, tapping his pencil on the desk. "Cool. Great. I doubt Ryan is missing it."

Peter pulled out his Iron Man idea booklet, trying to ignore the feeling of Steven's eyes roaming all over him, sliding over him like a physical touch. He could feel when they lingered on him. First his cheeks, then down neck, along his biceps, up and down his hands and over every joint of his fingers. He shuddered when they fell on his lap, his face burning. He never hated his Spidey-Senses so much as he did in that moment. He closed his eyes, willing him to stop, wishing Mrs. A would have some sort of announcement, or a random fire drill. Anything to get Steven's eyes off of him.

"So, I was thinking.." Steven started. Peter swallowed back the bile in his throat.

"About?"

"Well, don't you think we should meet up after school to work on this?" Steven asked, casually leaning on his arms across the desk. "I know this great milkshake place, over between 10th and Elm if you don't want to spend all afternoon in the stuffy library. I'd offer to buy you coffee but I don't really drink it so I don't know what's good. I know, I know. 'Who doesn't like coffee', right? I'm weird. If you would rather go someplace else, I'm pretty flexible."

Peter gaped at Steven, then blinked, remembering that Steven was probably expecting some kind of response. "Uhm..I can't really do any project stuff at school. Or anywhere else but home. All of my equipment is there."

Steven's smile widened, and Peter wondered if it looked as sinister to everyone else as it did to him. "You inviting me to your place, Einstein?"

Peter's heart started racing so hard the sound of his blood washing through his body was making his stomach roll. He didn't like the way this conversation was going at all.

"You can't come to my house," Peter said, hurriedly. "I mean, I'm a foster kid so it's not really my house. For now, anyway."

Sort of. To the Avengers. That was a weird thought.

Steven leaned closer to Peter and peered down at Peter's lips, his face soft and warm, contrasting heavily with the icy coldness in his blue eyes. Peter couldn't help but think how different they were from Steve's, despite being close to the same color.

"You can always come back to mine," he said, his voice silky and even.

Peter bit the inside of his cheek. "I-I'll have to ask. My foster parents are kind of strict, though."

"I'm sure I could help you sneak away," Steven crooned.

Peter closed his Iron Man notebook and some of the tightness in his chest lessened.

"I'm not sure you could."

That, for some reason, made Steven laugh.

"Don't be so nervous, Einstein. If you aren't interested, I'll back off, okay?" He said, leaning back a bit, and Peter was grateful for even the slightest relief from the almost aching buzz beneath his skin. "I want you to be comfortable around me."

_I'm really, really not. At all. Ever._

"I'm just figuring things out. About myself, and everything. I'm not ready for anything...like that," Peter said, wincing. It wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. He was ready to delve into dating, if he found the right person, but he definitely wasn't looking for anything like that with Steven.

Steven nodded in understanding. "Okay. We can do this at your pace. I'm willing to wait for you. No worries."

Peter forced a relieved smile, but couldn't help but wonder if he'd messed up by wording it that way. He didn't want Steven to think he needed to wait. He didn't want Steven to think they had a chance at all when he knew they didn't, but he didn't know if there was a nice way to say that. He never expected being nice to have a downside. Was it weird to feel totally cheated?

"Oh here. You forgot this."

Peter later blamed his inner turmoil for not noticing that Steven had entered his space again, his hand purposely running over Peter's when he put Peter's notebook on the table. Peter pulled back so quickly his elbow slammed into the desk behind him with a loud thunk, making him hiss in pain.

"Freaking ouch," he breathed, rubbing his throbbing elbow.

"Oh, shit. Sorry! Are you okay?”

"Yeah, it's just my elbow. I'm good."

"Sorry, I was just trying-god. Let me see. I need to make sure you're okay," Steven said, sounding half-worried, half-frustrated.

Peter moved his hand away and there was an instantaneous purple bruise blossoming on his skin. Steven gasped, looking horrified. It would be gone within and hour or two, but Peter couldn't exactly say that.

"Shit," Steven whispered. "I hurt you."

"Don't worry about it. It's my fault," Peter laughed nervously.

"I wasn't supposed to-God, I'm sorry. I just said I'd back off and then, I'm so stupid. I thought if I was smooth, I would-I don't know!"

His eyes were wide, almost frantic looking, and for the first time since Peter laid eyes on him, his Spidey-Senses were quiet. Peter could hear the increase in Steven's heat rate, his breathing turning ragged. Peter's own heartbeat started to speed up, recognizing Steven's ensuing panic attack, unsure what to do.

"Hey, Steven. Look at me," Peter said, shakily.

"So stupid. God, so, so stupid," Steven whimpered, pulling at his hair. "I didn't mean to. I didn't!"

"Steven. It's okay. I'm fine, see? I'm okay," Peter assured him quietly. A few people were starting to look over at them, and Peter fidgeted in his seat. "Steven!”

Peter grabbed his arm, careful not to squeeze too tightly, but the contact seemed to help, pulling Steven's eyes from the haze he saw moments before.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have," Steven said again, his voice getting clearer, but at least he was meeting Peter's eyes again. "I shouldn't have touched you. It was stupid."

"Shh," Peter urged. "It's fine. Seriously. I'm just jumpy, alright?"

Peter could hear the clicking of heels, and a few people turned in their seats as she passed, making the desks creak.

"Steven, is everything okay over here?" Mrs. Anderson whispered, thankfully waiting until she was close to their desks so that she didn't draw more attention to the situation than there was already.

"I think he may have had a panic attack," Peter whispered back to her, pulling his hand away.

Mrs. Anderson frowned at his retreating hand, concern heavy in her brow. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure."

"Steven? Want to tell me what happened?"

Steven's eyes stayed trained on the bruise on Peter's arm, a strange look on his face. Peter quickly covered it with his hand and Mrs. A looked between them, wondering what it was that she was missing. When she realized he wasn't going to speak, she sighed.

"Peter, Why don't you take him to the nurses office?"

"No!" Steven shouted, the color draining from his face. Mrs. A jumped at the sudden outburst, her reaction making Steven wince as if he'd been struck. "I'm sorry. I meant that I'm fine. I promise."

Mrs. Anderson bit her bottom lip, obviously still concerned with his still shaking hands and pale face. "I really think it would be better. Maybe your parents can come pick you up."

"I don't want to go to the nurse. I'm behind enough as it is," Steven said, voice stronger now. "I'm fine."

Mrs. A finally adopted a stern look.

"I'm sorry. I can't in good conscience let you stay in class after something as serious as a panic attack," Mrs. Anderson said.

Steven sighed, but relented. "Okay. Fine. I'll go."

Mrs. A gave him a tight smile, then retreated to help one pair that was waiting with their hands in the air for assistance.

Peter and Steven both collected their things and walked out of the classroom. Peter could feel his Spidey-Sense again, a quiet hum slowly building to an inescapable crescendo with each step away from the relative safety of the crowded classroom. Peter kept his eyes forward, probably walking faster than what people would consider normal, but he didn't care.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't. I don't get hurt that easily. It was my fault I jumped."

"Right. Because I touched you."

There was an unmistakable air of accusation lingering in his statement, and Peter didn't know how to respond. Their footsteps echoed in the empty hallway.

"I don't really understand that, by the way."

Peter gritted his teeth, the buzzing beneath his skin getting stronger. Steven peeked over at him, waiting for Peter to ask what he meant, but when it was obvious he wasn't going to, he continued.

"I mean, I see your friends touch you all the time. If anything they are overly touchy. So what's up with that? Why am I the person you cant stand touching you?"

"Because I don't know you," Peter snapped, stopping short. He was suddenly glad the halls were empty. He balled his hands into fists, fighting the scarily present urge to see Steven unconscious on the floor. "I've been friends with Ned since kindergarten and I've known MJ for years, even if we weren't friends until last year. I barely know you and you keep saying things and touching me. It's not weird to not like it when people you don't know touch you."

Steven scoffed. "Yeah, and why is that? Who's fault is it that you don't know me? I'm trying to talk to you. I gave you my email. I'm trying everything I can to show you I want to know you and you keep blowing me off."

That wasn't right. He wasn't blowing him off, he just wasn't comfortable. Right? Peter didn't have any explanation for what he felt that would make sense to Steven.

"I'm sorry, okay? I don't just hang out with anybody, I have to get to know you first."

"I just said I'm trying to do that."

"We just got assigned to this project Friday. If you really want to know me, you have to give me more time than that."

"You realize you're 17, right? You're not a child. You don't have to know every detail about someone to know that you like them."

Peter sighed, a pulsing headache building behind his eyes. Those were happening more and more lately.

"Look. You need to go to the nurse. Let's just get there."

Peter started walking again, not really caring if Steven followed or not. His footsteps finally started after him but he stayed far enough behind to let Peter think something other than how badly he wanted to get away.

Peter stopped at the nurses office door, and waited for Steven to catch up. His jaw was set angrily, and he didn't look up at Peter as he all but stomped past him. Peter debated following him inside, wondering if Steven needed his help to explain why he was there, but instead turned and walked back to art class.

****

Tony was sitting at the bar in the kitchen with Rhodey discussing possible modification ideas for Rhodey's suit when Peter came home from school. He knew instantly that something happened just from the look on his face. Tony liked that about him for the most part, being easily read, even if he worried it might get the kid in trouble some day. Peter's head was hunched into his shoulders, his lips in a tight line. Tony's eyes followed him as he walked into the suite and straight to his room.

Tony and Rhodey both turned to Happy, who looked as bewildered by Peter's agitated state as they were.

Rhodey whistled low. "What's with the kid? He always says hi."

"Don't ask me. He's been like that since I picked him up," Happy said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

"He didn't say anything?" Tony asked.

Happy shook his head. "Surprisingly, not a peep."

Tony sighed. "Okay. Thanks, Hap."

"Yep. Oh, and Pepper wanted me to pass along that she is going to be late tonight. She is meeting with some investors tomorrow and wants to read up on them before being stuck in a room with them for two hours."

"Okay. Tell her to call me when she can," Rhodey said.

Tony stood up after Happy was gone and walked to the cabinet, pulling out a glass and filling it with ice water. "Should probably give him space, right?"

Rhodey laughed. "You're asking me? Just because I know how to put up with your stubborn, self-deprecating ass doesn't mean I know how to deal with teenagers."

Tony hummed into his drink, still staring at Peter's door. Rhodey studied Tony's face, the deep creases in his forehead, heavy set in his brow, and sharp eyes. Rhodey sighed.

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Thinking about it. If you do, all it's going to do is make things harder."

Tony looked down at the melting ice, not knowing where else to look without proving his point. Rhodey was right, he knew, but it didn't make it any easier to purge from his mind. Knowing that Oscorp, and therefore Hydra, had been keeping tabs on Peter for long before his affiliation with the Avengers, long before Peter even received the spider bite, raised too many questions. Tony didn't want to think that Peter was working with Hydra, he wouldn't even entertain the thought for a moment, but it did make him worry that Peter could have been sucked into their world if things had gone differently.

"No. You're not asking him any questions," Rhodey said, dropping his sandwich in exasperation. "Come on, Tony. You heard what Steve said. If people have eyes on Peter, we need him acting as normal as possible."

"Did I say that out loud?" Tony hummed, lips turning down in thought. "Weird."

"No, but I know you. You had that 'Screw Steve' look on your face."

“Good to know I have one. Steve ignores it so well I was beginning to think I was imagining it."

The elevator dinged and Natasha, Clint, and Steve joined them in the kitchen, Natasha and Steve both looking worn out from going through files all night, and Clint practically bouncing with each step.

"Speak of the devil," Rhodey said, darkly.

Tony felt a surge of affection for his best friend. Even if Tony had mostly gotten over everything (as much as one can "get over" almost being killed and left for dead by someone he considered family), it felt good that Rhodey and Pepper were still angry for him. Tony gave him a commiserating double knock on the cabinet. That probably wasn't really even a thing, but Rhodey seemed to understand.

"Hello gorgeous and friends," Tony said, smiling. "I'm talking to Nat, Clint. Stop winking at me."

Natasha returned the smile, taking the spot directly in front of Tony.

"Hey Rhodes. Staying busy?"

"Always. I've got three new groups to train."

"Tony said you were working long hours," Clint said.

Rhodey nodded. "Not as many hours as this one, but I don't think anyone pulls as many hours as Tony."

Tony smoked smugly. Tony probably did pull more hours than any of them, even though he was temporarily out of the Avenging business. Between making adjustments to their equipment, helping with research and building tech, he didn't want to think of how many hours a week he was working. Was his ability to stay awake beyond the normal human capacity because of his crippling anxiety and fear inducing nightmares? Yes. Was he going to tell them that? No. Did he feel bad for lying? Mm. Also no.

"Speaking of, I thought you were working with Bruce?" Natasha asked.

"I was. We had to take a quick genius break. Put two of us in a small area for too long and the chances of a big green guy popping out and destroying everything I worked hard on go up exponentially."

"Irritating him?"

Tony shrugged. "It's unavoidable."

"Right." Natasha peeked around the kitchen then turned to look at the empty living room. "We saw Happy on our way up. Where's Peter?"

Tony poured her a strawberry lemonade he ordered for her earlier that day and sat it in front of her. She gave him a smile in thanks.

"His room. Looked like he had a bad day."

"Bad how?"

"I'm not sure. Probably normal teenage bad, or he would've said something."

"You didn't ask him?" Steve asked, turning his attention away from the toaster to look at Tony.

"No, Cap. I figured I'd give him some space." Tony huffed and glanced at Clint, who was laying on the back of the couch, singing quietly to himself. "What's with you, Barton? Someone buy you a puppy?"

Clint lifted his head to grin at Tony.

"Nope. I'm just ready to kick some Hydra ass."

"So you're singing 'Break My Stride'?" Tony asked.

"It's my ass kicking song," Clint deadpanned.

"Oh. Well, okay."

"Did you guys manage to find coordinates or something tucked away in the files or is this just your usual urge to blow things up?" Rhodey asked.

"Neither. Laura and the kids Skyped me this morning, and I figure the sooner we get this figured out, the sooner I can show the kids my new arrows in person."

"Oh. That's nice." Rhodey paused. "New arrows?"

"Don't ask," Steve and Tony said at the same time, making them both frown.

Natasha smirked, and stood from the table. "Tony did you ever get Peter's suit ready?"

"Ready enough for him to wear. I'm still tweaking some of the more advanced settings, but he won't be allowed to use those for a while. Why?"

"I'm was going to ask Peter if he was ready to start patrolling tonight. Maybe that will make him feel better."

Steve stopped spreading the last of the peanut butter on his toast and quickly slapped the two pieces of bread together, careful not to drop the banana slices. "Mind if I head up with you?"

"Why?" Rhodey asked.

Clint sniggered, joining the others at the bar. "Didn't you hear? Spiderling and Star-Spangled Man with a Plan are besties."

Tony raised a brow at the slight blush on Steve's face.

"We aren't besties. Tony told me Peter needed my help with something, and I realized after the meeting that he never asked me about it."

Tony groaned. "Seriously, kid? I gave you an opening and everything."

"In Peter's defense, they were very busy with their strange popcorn-throwing foreplay action," Clint said.

"Peter is seventeen, and will not be touched by anyone, ever until he's 40," Natasha threatened, her eyes and voice dark.

Clint took a step to the side.

"O-Kay. Can't wait until you tell Peter that."

"Sir, Dr. Banner is requesting you down stairs."

Tony frowned, but stood anyway. "Maybe you guys should wait a few more days."

"A few days isn't going to change anything," Natasha reasoned.

Tony rubbed a nervous hand over his jeans. " I knows. Just-Please be careful, Nat. If you guys need anything-"

"I know. I'll call."

"Maybe I should just go with you."

"You and Bruce need to get started on the cloaking device." Tony still looked unsure, so she patted him on the arm. "We will stick to the little guys. Anything bigger than a mugging and I'll message you right away."

Tony finally relented, missing Natasha's touch as soon as it was gone.

"Okay. Stay safe."

"Tony. Rhodes. Barton," Steve dismissed himself.

They all nodded their heads in agreement and Natasha and Steve made their way to the elevator.

Peter was in his bathroom, his shirt discarded on the floor next to the shower, staring at the bruise on his elbow. It was a deep purple, almost black toward the center, with yellow patches in and around the most tender spots. He bit the inside of his cheek, willing it to disappear or even lighten, but Peter knew if it hadn't happened after 5 hours, it wasn't going to any time soon.

Peter's day only seemed to get worse after Art. Everyone seemed to be looking at him even more than usual, rumors of Steven's panic attack probably already circulating the school, and everyone seemed to think it was due to something Peter did. Peter accidentally snapped at Ned when he asked what Peter did to Steven at lunch. He didn't mean to but jeeze! Why did everyone assume he did something? Steven was the one always being...whatever.

Peter didn't know what Steven was or what he wanted, but he knew Steven was the reason his bruise wasn't going away. He had to be. Between his Spidey-Senses and this weird healing thing, that was the only explanation. When Peter rested his elbow on the car door and realized he still had the bruise, he thought he was going to have a heart attack. The thirty minute drive to Stark Tower felt impossibly long. When he finally made it to the safety of his room and managed to crawl up the wall, he'd never been so relieved. He still had his abilities.

Peter touched the bruise with two fingers, wincing slightly. What did Steven do to him?

There was a soft knock at his door. "Peter? Can I come in?"

Peter looked down at the bruise one more time before swiping his shirt off the ground. "Uh. Yeah. Sure."

Peter stepped through the door, and when he managed to pull his shirt over his face, he found not only Natasha, but Steve. Peter sputtered, embarrassed, and Natasha fought the urge to run her hands down her face.

"Steve. Natasha. Hey. Sorry. I was just-" Unsurprisingly, words failed Peter. "What-uhm. What are you guys doing? Uh-In-in my room? Did you need something?"

Steve was trying to get over the fact that Peter, small, sweet Peter was much more muscular than Steve ever could have imagined. Just that small peek of what was under his shirt made it impossible to think straight. He tried to swallow past his own embarrassment, and failed, so he motioned for Natasha to go first.

Natasha gave him a too-knowing look, recalling how evasive Steve had been about how he and Peter got along while she and Tony were gone, but decided now wasn't the time to press for answers.

"Tony said you looked upset when you came in."

"Upset?" Peter parroted. "Oh no. I'm good. Fine."

Peter leaned against the wall with one hand, but when his arm straightened to catch his weight, he hissed in pain, having forgotten about his bruise.

Natasha gave him an unimpressed look. "You're worse than Clint."

Peter sighed. "Ya know, he's only been here three days and I've heard that like 5 times."

"Are you injured?" Steve was at his side lifting his sleeve before Peter could even process what was happening. Peter shook off the shock and tried to pull away, but the bruise was already showing.

Natasha hissed in sympathy. "Give someone a broken nose with that elbow?”

"To the Hulk maybe," Steve said, shaking his head. "There's no way he could bruise like this from that."

Natasha crossed her arms and waited expectantly.

"Its not a big deal."

Silence.

“Seriously. It was nothing."

Silence.

"Fine. I hit it on a desk at school."

"How?" Natasha asked.

"I just jerked back and hit it. It looks worse than it is."

Steve's brows furrowed, and he traced his fingers over the tendon below his elbow. It was raised and throbbing.

"This happen right before school ended? If you're anything like me this should have been gone after a few hours. JARVIS, Time?"

"It is 4:58 PM."

"Time doesn't add up. He gets out at 3:15. It would almost be gone by now," Natasha said.

"Peter?"

Peter looked between the two, debating the chance of Natasha figuring out he was lying, and sighed. "I'm going to sound crazy."

"I was an asthmatic with a medical history as long as the Declaration and can now bench press a motorcycle. Try me."

Natasha smirked and Peter scowled at the floor.

"I don't know how, but I think Steven did it. Not that I really know what 'it' is. Maybe he makes me weaker or something? I'm not really sure, and it's not like I can openly ask him, you know?"

"What did Steven do?" Natasha asked, patiently.

Peter reluctantly sat on his bed, hugging his pillow and unwittingly rubbing the bruise as explained what happened, leaving out the creepy no-touch bad-touches he felt, and by the end, Natasha was wearing her blank face that Peter hated so much.

"I can't even tell if it's gotten better, honestly. It happened before lunch," Peter explained, sounding more put out than he'd meant to. "I was scared that my abilities were wearing off but from what I can tell they are fine. Except this one bruise that I happened to get when I was around Steven."

Steve could feel Natasha’s gaze on him, and gave Peter a sympathetic look. "I'm going to have to call a meeting. I know we didn't find anything, but this kid is obviously bad news."

Natasha nodded. "He's right. If this kid is Hydra and he is enhanced in a way that can halt your healing, we may have to rethink your schooling situation."

"What?" Peter snapped in disbelief. "You're kidding. You're going to pull me out of school?"

"It may be our only option if we want to keep you safe."

"No. Letting me go to school and deal with my own problems is an option."

"We can't follow you to school everyday."

"Then don't. Nat, please."

Begging hurt. It felt stupid and juvenile and weak, but this was his life.

"We aren't letting you get hurt."

"Yeah like me losing any chance at a scholarship for school isn't going to hurt me."

"School won't matter if you're dead."

"Okay. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Steve stepped between them, not liking the downhill progression the conversation had taken. "We didn't come up here to argue."

"Then why are you up here?" Peter asked, resigned.

Natasha hesitated. "I was coming to ask if you wanted to patrol."

Well, so much for that. Peter didn't even have to ask to know she'd changed her mind. He ground his teeth together, too angry to trust his words, and looked to Steve.

"Tony said something about you needing some help on a project."

The wind rushed from Peter's sails.

"Oh. That."

Steve gave him a small smile. "Yeah. That."

Peter's brows were still furrowed, and Steve's face turned uncertain. "Do you still need me?"

Peter glared at Natasha. "I don't know. There's no point if I'm not going to be in school. It's a six week project."

Natasha knew there was nothing productive left to say to Peter so she didn't respond.

"I'm going to go tell everyone there's a meeting. 7 alright with you?"

"Depends. That going to be enough time to work on it?" He asked Peter. Peter nodded begrudgingly.

"Alright. I'll let the others know."

Natasha left without another word. Peter listened to her footsteps as they faded away, not allowing himself to let go of his anger until she was well and gone. He shouldn't have answered the door. He should have pretended to be asleep or said he wasn't feeling well. Peter had to fight to get to patrol and now he was going to have to fight for school too? He shouldn't have to fight for normalcy! As if things weren't bad enough without having to worry about stupid things like that.

"We will figure out something," Steve assured him. The _one way or the other_ was silent, but there all the same. He couldn't make Peter any promises about what was to come, but he could distract him. "Until then, let's focus on this project."

Peter didn't want to focus on his project or school or yelling at Nat and definitely not Steven, but when Steve took a seat on the foot of his bed, big blue eyes looking at him expectantly, he couldn't turn him away.

"All I was going to do today was ask if you'd be willing to answer some questions. We don't have anything to actually work on."

"Can I ask what kind of questions?"

"I don't think I'll ask anything too difficult," Peter started, slowly. "Mostly just what you liked most about Manhattan in the 40's. Maybe all the places that you know that are still around."

"What kind of project is it? Book report?"

"Art project."

"Oh. Do you already know what you're making?"

Peter debated showing him his idea, but in that instant he decided if he was going to do this, he wanted it to be a surprise.

"I do. I'll probably start making it in the lab tonight, if Tony hasn't started the Hydra tech yet."

Peter didn't notice the guilty way Steve lowered his gaze to the bed spread. That was another thing nobody told Peter yet. Until they figured out what Hydra wanted with Peter, they needed him as far away from what they were finding as possible. Nobody believed Peter was involved, but taking precautions never hurt. Physically anyway.

Steve looked up to find Peter staring down at his hands. It wasn’t hard to guess what he was thinking about.

“Peter? Are you okay?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Just hard to believe how much my life has changed in such a short time, you know? Well. I guess that’s a dumb question. Of course you know.”

That was an understatement, but just because Steve’s situation was more of a dramatic change didn’t make Peter’s feelings less valid.

“It gets easier.”

Peter forced a smile. “Yeah.”

Silence lingered between them, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Steve went over the entire situation in his mind again, then shifted to make himself more comfortable on the bed.

"You know, before the Avengers, Natasha didn't have many people. It's hard for her, for all of us, to know that the people closest to us are taking the same risk we are everyday. It took a while for her to get comfortable with the idea of family. The fact that she took to you so quickly is a testament to how much she cares for you."

Peter listened intently as he rubbed his thumb and finger together.

"I didn't have many people either," Peter said, quietly. "Down to two, really."

Steve looked at Peter with a sad smile. "You really believe that? I haven't even been around you and Tony much but I know you'd take a bullet for him and I know he'd do the same for you. Same goes for you and Natasha."

"I'd do it for any of you," Peter said with such conviction it left no room for doubt. "In a heartbeat."

Steve was slightly taken aback, unsure whether to be flattered or worried. He rolled the idea around his mind, hating the taste it left on his tongue.

"We won't ever let it come to that."

Peter looked over to the spot where he'd lain an old newspaper print out clipping of all the nurses from his Aunt's hospital he'd managed to find online. He'd sworn something similar to what Steve just said after his Uncle died, that he would never let another person get hurt because of his inaction, but Peter knew that it was an empty promise. The truth was, anyone who was close to him was in danger. Nobody even knew he was Spider-Man and his aunt was taken. The more people that knew, the bigger the possibility that Ned or MJ is next.

"Have you ever patrolled Manhattan?"

Peter was surprised by the sudden topic change but shook his head.

"No. I don't know it as well as Queens, so it would be a little more difficult. Why?"

“If Hydra was looking for you, they would probably avoid around the Tower unless they wanted to risk fighting the whole team. If you are up for it, I can take you out tomorrow night."

Peter's mouth twisted to the side. "I don't know. Even if Tony would let me, Natasha would murder you."

“I'll talk to them. Maybe a night out will help you get out of your head."

Peter nodded as if to say, "maybe."

“Go ahead and write me up a list of questions and we can work on that tomorrow, too."

Steve stood from Peter's bed and gave him a bright smile. "I just hope you'll be able to keep up."

“Web shooters verses running doesn't even seem fair," Peter countered. "Wait did you say tomorrow?"

Steve stopped at the door. "Yeah, why?"

“So I'm guessing I'm not allowed at this meeting either?"

Steve quirked his head. Nobody told Peter there was a meeting the night before. Steve seemed to be struggling with how to field that question without lying or admitting there was another meeting.

Peter's expression darkened. "I'm not stupid."

Steve held Peter's gaze, hoping Peter could feel the sincerity he was trying to emanate. "I know."

They stared at each other, mulling over the words hanging in the air. Nothing they said would make the situation easier for either of them. Steve couldn't tell Peter anything more, and affirming their meetings when Peter wasn't asking him to would just make matters worse. Peter could pretend that he wasn't bothered, but the only people that would benefit was the people hiding things from him in the first place.

Peter nodded, accepting the silence as the metaphorical door in face that it was and walked to the bathroom. "I'll see you tomorrow."

“Peter-"

Peter shut the door behind him and glared at his reflection in the mirror, the anger he'd felt over the course of the day, heck, maybe even the last few weeks, was boiling back to the surface, building with each beat of his heart until he thought he was going to burst. His bedroom door closed, signaling Steve's exit, and he sat on the edge of the tub, resting his face in his hands, trying to calm himself.

Peter liked Steve, even more so after getting the chance to spend time with him. If he was honest with himself, he would say he idolized him. Maybe not the way that he idolized Tony, but in a more human way. There was a level of understanding there that not a lot of people could empathize with, even if Steve didn't know it as much as Peter did. Steve, or rather Captain America, was the man that Peter turned to when he was a kid who'd lost his parents. He was the person who came from nothing and fought and gave his everything until there was nothing left to give but his life for his country, and still he gave it.

Peter knew what it was like to grow up poor, to be the little guy picked on day after day. So when he got his powers, he wasn't worried about knocking people down or becoming the greatest hero. He wanted to help the people that couldn't help themselves.

Now, here he was, feeling more like a captive enemy in two of his childhood heroes' territory than a superhero. Steve was right about his attachments to Natasha and Tony, but Peter hadn't realized until Steve's comment about taking bullets how much he was invested in the others, especially Bruce, Clint, Rhodey, and Pepper. He'd even do anything for Sam and Bucky, who didn't seem to have a vested interest in him, because they meant a lot to Nat and Steve. Yet, despite his attachment to them, they were keeping him out.

Maybe it was better this way. If he really was a danger, the best thing he could do was keep the Avengers at a distance. Even if he could push them away, he still needed to find May. He couldn't keep being benched, doing nothing, waiting until he either got kidnapped or had every sense of normalcy ripped away.

It wasn't like he could go off on his own, Peter wasn't that stupid, but it wasn't exactly easy to solve a puzzle with only half the pieces. He needed to know everything if he was going to be able to figure this out. How he was going to find out what they'd been hiding, though, Peter didn't know. It's not like he could just-

Peter's thoughts came to a staggering hault, an idea cropping up in his mind. He grabbed his phone where it lay abandoned on the counter and sent a text to Ned. He opened the bathroom door, shoving his phone in his pocket, and pulled out his computer.

"JARVIS, can we go over the security protocols?"

"Which protocols would you like to hear?”

******

Steve couldn't shake the feeling that he shouldn't have left Peter. It was an annoying, nagging feeling similar to the feeling in the pit of your stomach when you're sure you've forgotten something, but can't remember what.

Their conversation hadn't gone well. It wasn't what Steve wanted, but he wasn't sure what he could've done differently. He vowed that he would fix everything the next night, if Peter would still be willing to patrol with him.

The meeting the night before had gone almost exactly like the first meeting did. Bucky asked questions, gave input, even directed some of the conversation toward Steve, but when the meeting was over, he was gone before Steve could stop him. Which was why Steve was surprised to find Bucky sitting cross legged on the floor in the middle of his living room, using a small tool kit to adjust his arm on the coffee table.

Bucky was wearing his typical loungewear, a pair of jeans and a cut off shirt, his hair down and strands hanging in his face. It was probably one of Steve's favorite looks. Bucky looked great in a suit, but there was something about the casual look that was just so Bucky.

His face was unreadable when he looked up at Steve, but he could see the tenseness in his stance, something that he didn't think would ever fully go away, but seemingly more so than usual.

"You weren't on the communal floor," Bucky said, awkwardly, finishing up the work on his arm. He sat the small screwdriver on the table, the metal and glass clanking together loudly in the near empty room.

Steve forced his feet to move and went to stand by the couch, draping his jacket over the arm. He didn't dare let himself step closer or he'd break before he said a word.

"No. I was on Tony's helping Peter with his project."

Bucky nodded, his metal hand clenching the opposite arm. "That's what Nat said."

"Something happen?"

"Just maintenance."

Steve waited, unsure what to say, unable to think through his current haze of emotions. Bucky stood up and watched him patiently, giving him time to work through it.

“So are we going to talk about this now?" Steve asked, his voice shaky from adrenaline. "I've been trying to talk to you for three days."

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. "Sam took me to therapy."

Steve's brows furrowed in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Don't be stupid, Steve. You know why."

Steve stared at him blankly. "Buck, I don't know anything. I don't even know why we were fighting."

"We were fighting because of this incessant need you have to collect every damn stray you come across. It was stupid when you did it with me and it's stupid you're doin' it with Peter."

"Come on. We've talked about this. You weren't some stray. You were my best friend. Hell, my brother. You were taken by Hydra and that's not your fault."

"You could've been killed."

"But I wasn't. It worked out, just like I said it would. Why are we having this conversation again?"

"Because you should've just left me!" Bucky yelled. "No matter where I go or what I do, Hydra will always be just a few steps behind, waitin' to use me again."

"No. That's not true. Even if they want you it's too late. There are no more code words, no more handlers, and you're done running. You're helping take down the people who did this to you. How could I ever pick that life for you over what we have now?"

Bucky shook his head. "At least then maybe you'd think a little clearer. You've got it in your head that you can fix everyone and it's gunna to get you killed."

Steve ran his hand through his hair. "So what? This is because Tony took Peter in?"

"No it's because you couldn't let Tony just do this. You and I both know Tony is more than capable of handling him while we deal with Hydra, but you couldn't let him take the reins. You're too stubborn. You always have to fight, even when it's not yours. You can't help yourself."

"What does that have to do with therapy?"

"I'm messed up Steve. You know that."

"Aren't we all? Tony says that at least three times a week."

"Yeah, but Tony doesn't wanna lock his best friend away to keep him from gettin' friendly with a Hydra agent."

There were too many things there to digest at once.

"I think there's a misunderstanding here. I like Peter, but whatever you think I'm trying to do-"

"Don't," Bucky interjected, holding up a hand. His eyes were hard, then his face softened. "All I'm trying to say is I've saved your ass too many times to let you be this stupid. You're gunna do what you want, but I'm not gunna stop telling you this is a bad idea, and I'm not gunna be nice about it."

"He's a kid," Steve scoffed, but it came out weak even to him.

"And that won't stop me from killing him if he's working for Hydra. Can you say the same?"

Steve frowned, unsure how to answer truthfully. He'd gone on plenty of missions where they were ordered to take no survivors, but in those instances he was always taking out nameless Hydra agents. Peter was nothing like he imagined Hydra to be. He was going through some hard circumstances, but considering everything Peter was handling things better than most people would.

"You don't have to answer," Bucky said, stepping closer to him. Steve was suddenly aware of everything. The look of hesitation on Bucky's face, the fear of rejection, the slight, anxious part of his lips. "Just- don't hate me if I have to do something you can't."

Steve wanted to pull him close and show him that he was the one person he would never hate no matter what he did. He wanted to make him realize that he would go through hell and back if he knew that it would make Bucky happy. But he knew that even if it was what he needed, the same wasn't true for Bucky so he settled for pulling Bucky forward and wrapping him in a tight hug, which was eagerly met and reciprocated. Steve reveled in it, his chin resting on Bucky's shoulder.

"Never."

They stayed like that for a moment, then pulled apart. Steve forced a smile through the familiar ache, and Bucky sighed.

“Let's not do this again soon," Bucky teased. "I feel like a dame."

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "You're an idiot."

"Punk."

"Jerk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm...?  
> What does Peter have planned? Any guesses?
> 
> This chapter was a bit longer than usual, but I hope you liked it. Tell me what you think!


	10. The Chapter with Too Much Dialogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter decides to take things into his own hands.  
> Tony’s secret project is revealed.  
> Steve/Peter bonding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter is dialogue heavy and I can’t for the life of me fix it. So here you go! 
> 
> Also, the pictures I’ve posted may be edited by me, but the original images did not belong to me. The gif was pulled from the movie and I found it online, the other pictures I just merged using normal images. 
> 
> If you want to see the unblurry, better quality versions of my pictures for this fic, here is my tumblr! 
> 
> infernal-panda.tumblr.com

Around 7:15, when Peter was sure everyone else was occupied at the meeting, he curled up on his bed, and opened his laptop, waiting for the jingle that alerted him that Ned was calling him over Skype. Already dressed down to PJ's for the night, he reached over the bed and pulled out a few packages of gummies he'd stuck in the bottom drawer to hide from Clint. He figured he was on his own for dinner, and he had too much to get done before he could allow himself to break for eating.

Peter had a plan. It wasn't exactly exciting or earth-shattering, but it a lot more than he had yesterday. Step one, the persuasion part of the plan, was going poorer than he anticipated.

"You want me to help you bypass Tony's security protocols?" Ned hissed, under his blanket fort. "When you said you wanted to talk I figured it would be about your aunt being missing or your gay-panic over living with Captain America, not this."

Peter may or may not have called Ned the night before to tell him about Steve liking Star Wars. It also may or may not have ended up being an hour long conversation about how funny and adorable the guy was. Peter couldn't help it. He played with Peter. Full on, being ridiculous and childish playing. Steve Rogers! Even better was the fact that, as far as Peter could tell, Steve was having just as much fun as he was. It was the cutest thing ever.

Peter knew it would never mean anything to Steve, but that was okay. He hadn't meant start crushing on the guy to begin with, so it wasn't like he was going to pursue him. Even if Steve was gay, or bi, or pan, or whatever would allow for Peter to be in ballpark, Peter knew he wouldn't be the one Steve was swinging for.

"First of all, if I haven't wanted to talk about May before, why would I want to start now? And second, I don't have gay panic. It's more like minor gay-anxiety."

Peter popped a few gummies in his mouth casually and Ned tapped the camera irritably.

"Peter. Are you crazy? Seriously. I think you're crazy."

"You already hacked him once," Peter encouraged. "It's not like I'm going to make you do it by yourself."

"If you don't remember, Tony was pretty mad we did that. You're lucky he didn't ban you from talking to me. I'm lucky he didn't come to school just to repulser me through the wall."

"Tony wouldn't do that."

"To you! You're like his tiny pocket genius with superpowers."

"I'm not tiny. I'm 5'8. But that's beside the point. They aren't telling me everything. How am I supposed to help find May if they are hiding stuff from me?"

"You're 17, man. And they're the Avengers. They're supposed to hide stuff from you."

"But I'm Spider-Man."

Ned shushed him, instinctively looking to the door despite being unable to see it. "You really have to watch saying that when I'm at home. My mom would have a heart attack if she found out you are the guy out jumping in front of busses and stuff. Or I guess were.”

Peter let out a long breath. Peter hadn't missed the blog posts debating whether his absence was due to something bad happening to Spider-Man or if he'd given up the gig. He wanted to ease people's worries and explain why he hadn't been there, but he knew it wasn't a good idea to post anywhere where he was or what his plans were. He just kept telling himself he had to trust that he would get to patrol soon enough. So much for that.

"Besides, using that excuse only works when you are trying to talk me into letting you beat up bad guys, not when you're spying on the good ones."

"Come on. Man in the chair!" Peter whined. "Isn't this your whole schtick? I could do it myself but you're my guy. If I make one wrong move Tony will know I've been snooping."

"We wouldn't have this issue if you would just ask Tony if he's utilizing my system."

"I know. He's just-I swear he's seriously busy. I've barely even seen Tony in two days.

Peter wasn't going to add that he still felt stupid for not just talking to Tony about the drive himself when Tony was mad about him almost getting blown up, but judging by the look Ned gave him, it wasn't that hard to read himself.

He looked between Peter and the list of directive commands Peter sent him through their specially encrypted emails. It might take a bit of time for him to find a loophole, but at least if he did it, he would know Peter wasn't going to ruin his relationship with the people helping him look for May.

"Fine. I'm not sure how you are planning to get in the room though. None of this helps at all if you can't be in the room with them while they are going over the important stuff."

"Already thought of that," Peter grinned, pulling out a red and gold box, shaking the lid softly until it came free. "You remember those notes I showed you on the Spidey-Cam?"

He pulled Goggles out of the box carefully, laying him on top of the lid, the sound of his untensed hinges settling against it sounding like a wind chime, beautiful and delicate. Peter ran two fingers over his back and there was a low golden glow in the eyes, signaling his powering on. His legs straightened and he looked even more lifelike in the dim light of his bedroom than he remembered. Peter held out the lid and Goggles hopped onto the laptop, his camera zooming in on Ned's image.

"Goggles, authorize Ned Leeds as second in command. Full access granted."

Goggles stiffened, then chirped, signaling the end of the requested action.

"Dude!" Ned's eyes widened comically, a smile stretching across his face. "You really finished it."

Peter nodded, proudly. "And it's technically connected to JARVIS, so as long as he doesn't breach any protocols, JARVIS isn't required to disclose anything to Tony."

Ned's smile dimmed a little. He knew that doing this was risky in a way that Peter fighting bad guys in Queens wasn't. From what Ned could tell, Peter seemed to have a pretty good relationship with Tony. If this went wrong, though, he wouldn't just lose his chance to keep the first father-like figure he'd had since he was 15, but he could lose his chance to find May too.

Ned didn't want Peter to give them any reason not to want to help him, or not trust him by helping Peter hack the system, but Peter was right. Peter was probably the smartest person he knew, but even he couldn't help if he didn't know what was going on.

Ned watched Goggles scamper across the laptop and his chest swelled with pride in his best friend. No matter how crappy everything was right now, Peter really was where he was meant to be and he would keep him there until they got May back, no matter what it took.

"What can it do?" He asked.

"Anything you can think of pretty much. Record, take pictures, take commands. He obviously has limitations because of his size, but he's amazing at recon. Tony made me think of stuff I never would have considered."

"So he's basically like Tony's AI, just physical?"

"Yes and no. I was going to use the spidey-cam as a vessel for JARVIS, but he had to be a lot bigger or I'd have to have reliable wireless connection to be able to use him. Since neither of those sounded very efficient, I decided I'd just program him with stuff I wanted by myself. Plus, I like him like this. He can communicate with JARVIS but he's still his own little dude."

Goggles turned and crawled over to Peter, bumping his hand so Peter would open it palm up. Peter opened it obligingly and he scampered inside.

"He cuddles?" Ned crooned. "That's adorable."

Peter flushed. His childhood longing for a pet definitely manifested itself in Goggles' programming but he wasn't going to admit that.

Goggles turned in his spot, seemingly scanning the room. Peter wasn't sure if the curiosity in his demeanor was all in his head or if it was just Goggles, but it was endearing nonetheless. He was the first life-like thing he'd ever made, and admittedly the most impressive. No matter what Peter made, though, no matter how much bigger and more impressive his projects got, he would never be as proud as he was of Goggles. Now he understood why Mr. Stark kept DUM-E around, not that Peter got as irritated with the little guy as everyone else did.

"You know, as cute as those little beeps and chirps are, you'll eventually need to be able to ask him questions."

Peter scrunched up his nose. He didn't like the idea of Goggles having a humanoid voice. Sure, the idea was appealing at one point in the process, but after Peter turned him on that first successful time, it felt wrong to change anything about his basic characterization. At what point do modifications turn from changing his abilities to changing his personality? Peter didn't like thinking about it, especially when he had so much he still needed to add. Ned seemed to read his mind.

"You could create a system based on those sounds if you don't want to give him a voice, but that may be counterproductive if you ever need to share messages."

"Yeah." Peter said, thinking. "I know he can understand me because he passed all of the preliminary checks, followed orders and stored everything I asked him to, but it probably wouldn't hurt to at least know what the noises mean."

"I could help you code him. We can sample a lot of different sounds, maybe even splice a few together if you want?" Ned offered, shoulder's haunched in hope. Peter grinned, and Ned fist pumped the air, almost knocking down his blanket fort.

"Free period?"

"Free period."

*****

Three hours later, Peter was knee deep in his art project in Tony's lab. Now that he had Steve's permission to move on with his concept, he wanted to make sure he got his project done as fast as possible.

So far he'd already decided on the square footage of Manhattan he would be focusing on recreating, researched the 3 most common car models from the 40's and today, created CAD models for them, plus a cab, a bus and a rail car, converted the CAD models to STL format, G-Coded them and was now waiting for the 3D printer to finish printing them while he worked on making a spread sheet of all the buildings in today's Manhattan within the designated area, converting their height and width to scale.

After talking to Ned, he had to admit he felt better about everything, despite never actually talking about what prompted his switch to a more hands on approach to finding May. He didn't want to rehash the Steven thing and he couldn't tell Ned that they were going to take him out of school, not until he was sure. There was no reason to make him upset too. What would they even tell MJ?

That was a road he didn't want his thoughts to go down.

Peter dropped his pencil and leaned back in his chair making it creak loudly, the only other sounds in the room the faint ticking of the clock and the whirring of the 3D printer. He glanced over at the clock. 12:17. If he went to sleep right now, he'd get about 5 and a half hours to sleep. Peter knew he was too wired, his mind trying to filter through too many thoughts to even attempt going to bed, but he closed his eyes hoping to at least rest a minute, zeroing in on the sound of the clock, letting the constant tick, tick, tick drown out his thoughts.

"You know, if you have a problem with your mattress all you have to do is order a new one."

Peter jolted at the sound of Tony's voice. He wore an amused smirk, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a green smoothie. Peter did not miss looking at those things. How could something made out of fruits and veggies look so unnatural? He looked over at the clock, still a little disoriented. 12:55. Maybe he was more tired than he thought.

"Sorry, I didn't actually think you were asleep."

"Neither did I," Peter muttered, rubbing his hands down his face.

Tony knew that feeling. He couldn't count how many times he would finally force himself to lay down and got caught in that horrible place between sleep and wakefulness. He could hear every sound, and despite being asleep, he would wake feeling as if he hadn't rested at all. He walked over to the 3D printer and held up a small cab car between two fingers in question.

"Extreme hot wheels?"

Peter huffed out a laugh and stretched, a small yawn escaping his lips before he could stop it. "For my project."

Tony raised a brow, turning the car over in his hand. "The Capcicle project?"

Peter nodded.

Tony made a mental note to thank Steve later and rolled the car on the desk before setting it down with the others with a clack. He turned his attention back to Peter. Now that he was closer, he could see there was a map beside him with a giant red rectangle outlined in red, and several sheets of paper covered in numbers around him. A few sheets of lightweight metal were marked in sharpie for cutting on the opposite side of where Peter was sitting, probably only keeping them in his space when he needed to mark a new shape.

"You've been busy."

"It's a big project. I've been working a few hours and I'm not even halfway through with the planning, much less building," Peter said, focusing a pained look at the sheet full of ratios and equations he'd been working on.

"Yeah? I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I've been working on a bit of a side project too," Tony said, sitting on the table, careful not to get too close to Peter's work station.

"You mean the super-secret thing you and Bruce have been working day and night on?" Peter asked, sarcastically raising an eyebrow. "Nope. Can't say I have."

"Well I guess you won't be eager to hear that it should be ready tomorrow morning."

Peter quirked his head, unable to hide his curiosity. "What is it?"

Tony shrugged. "Guess you'll have to see."

"You're going to let me?"

"Of course. You're the only one who will appreciate it. The others are so used to my genius it hardly phases them anymore."

Peter rolled his eyes, but couldn't deny he was excited to see what Tony was working on. It had to be something big if it had taken him and Bruce over a week to finish it.

Tony craned his neck to peek at Peter's arm. "How's your elbow?"

Peter's smile faded, but knew from his experience earlier that night it was stupid to try to argue his way out of showing it. He lifted the sleeve of his baggy sleep shirt and was surprised to see that it the black was now faded to purple, and a lot of the purple to yellow. Tony slipped off the desk and strode over, firmly yet carefully taking Peter's arm in his hands, not unlike Steve had done.

"Believe it or not, it actually looks a lot better."

Tony let out a strained sounding laugh, one hand squeezing Peter's arm gently before dropping both back to his side. "You're not making me feel much better, kid."

"I mean, it means that I can still heal fast. That's good, right?"

Peter frowned at the look on Tony's face as he sat back down in the chair beside his, remembering how similar it looked to the face he saw in the medical bay.

"It was a desk, Tony. Even if Steven is..enhanced in some way, he didn't hurt me. It was an accident. Honestly, it's of embarrassing if I think about it too long."

Tony didn't laugh, instead running his two middle fingers across the surface of the table, his eyes tracing their path. He didn't want to do this, but at the same time he knew he was the only one who could. Peter was Tony's responsibility. As fun as having Peter around was, he didn't just sign up for the good stuff.

Tony looked up at him guiltily through dark lashes and it was then that Peter realized what Tony was doing here in the lab he hadn't been to in days, asking about his arm, telling him about the side-project Peter had been chomping at the bit to find out about. They'd decided.

"You're pulling me out."

It wasn't a question. There wasn't a lilt to the sentence, no doubt, no inkling of hope hidden in the words, just Peter stating it like a fact he'd known since he was a child. Tony searched Peter's face, stoic as a man headed for the gallows, and no less fierce.

"Yeah. We're pulling you out."

The words, though expected, hit harder than he thought they would. Maybe it was because they were so final, or maybe it was because it was coming from Tony instead of one of the others, but Peter forced himself to nod once and turned back to his work, scrawling numbers down the sheet, knowing that if he looked at Tony the burning behind his eyes would only get worse.

"I'll set something up with your school. If we can't convince them to send your work home and let you continue school that way, we will set you up with online classes."

Peter's mind went to Ned and MJ. How was he going to get through all of this without seeing them everyday? He could already see the hurt and confusion on both of their faces in his mind. He turned his face away, pressing it against his shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut. _Don't think about them. Don't think about them. Don't-_

"We discussed body guards and rotating shifts with the team but no matter who we send, unless they are in the same room with you, there's no guarantee you would be safe. Plus with all the work we have piled on us with Hydra, a rotating schedule just wouldn't be feasible."

Peter breathed through the worst of his break in composure and forced himself to continue his work, trying to block out what he was hearing. None of it mattered anyway. It didn't matter that only a small percentage of people had advanced healing, that only half the team had advanced healing, and they still got to have normal lives. It didn't matter that Peter was at the top of his class, and the only scholarship he was lined up for would crash and burn if they pulled him out. They already made up their minds, just like Peter made up his. Tony moved closer to Peter, looking between him and the increasingly sloppy writing, starting to get a bit worried at his silence.

"Talk, kid. I need to know what you're thinking."

Peter's hand stilled, his eyes flitting across the page as he thought, mouth in a taught line. Maybe he could convince Tony to give him one more day. That wasn't so much to ask, was it? He wasn't going to fight, but at least owed his friends a proper goodbye.

"I want to tell my friends in person. If this has to happen..I just need to see them."

That was not what Tony expected. From what Natasha said, he expected yelling. Lots of it. Maybe a web shot at his face or a punch thrown, he didn't know. It was what kept Tony staring at Peter, peaceful and relaxed in the lab chair for longer than what would probably be normal, not knowing when he would be able to look at Tony without anger in his eyes. As much as Peter thought he depended on Tony, Tony believed the same two-fold. The kid was like a lifeline, pulling him out of the mess that was his life. Which was why he didn't do much as hesitate to answer.

"Yeah. I'll take you myself," Tony swore. "Nobody will argue."

He nodded, the sincerity in Tony's eyes choking him up again, his hands clenched as he tried to swallow past the growing aching knot in his throat. "I should get to bed."

Tony bobbed his head, trying not to feel guilty at the thickness in the kid's voice. "Yeah. Sure, Pete. I'll be in Bruce's lab when you're ready."

Peter didn't even gather his things, or stack them neatly like he usually did when he stopped for a break, not trusting himself in the room any longer. He could feel his stomach clenching, probably a mixture of hunger and distress, but Peter wouldn't risk going to the kitchen, not like this. So he headed to his room, knowing full-well he wouldn't be sleeping tonight, and tried to figure out how to tell his friends he was leaving.

******

Peter sat on the floor of his room, ignoring the incessant buzzing of his phone from his bed. After running through possible reactions in his head for hours, Peter was back to denial. He didn't want to deal with anything but the task at hand. Obviously, he couldn't just not show up to school without saying anything though, so he'd told Ned and MJ that he was taking a day or two off. Whether they didn't believe him or were insanely worried for his health, they were blowing his phone up. He thought about pulling himself up and walking over to just shut the phone off completely, but decided that was too much work.

His door was locked, not that he expected anyone else to be up this early. Even if they were, he highly doubted their first thoughts would be to check on Peter. He didn't want to risk it, regardless.

Goggles laid motionless on the floor beside Peter, a small cord connecting him to Peter's laptop. Using the computers in Tony's lab would have been quicker, easier and probably far less problematic than it was to use his three year old, refurbished laptop but it got the job done, and Peter didn't want any interruptions while he was installing the new programming.

It took him almost the whole night to wipe and add all of the things Ned sent to him, but he was finally almost finished. Peter stifled what was probably the fifteenth yawn in an hour with the back of his hand.

"Peter. Sir just inquired if you were awake and is going to request to know what you are doing."

He didn't consider Tony using JARVIS.

"I-crap. I don't-what are you going to tell him?"

JARVIS didn't answer for a moment.

"I was wondering if you would like me to call it 'working on a personal project.'"

Peter blinked, surprised. "I-yes. Please."

"Very well, sir."

Peter sat, unmoving, staring at the keyboard in front of him. Did JARVIS just cover for him?

Peter knew he was an AI, but surely Tony had programmed JARVIS to inform Tony of any threats to security. There were cameras and microphones everywhere. Tony told him that privacy wasn't an issue, as JARVIS was required not to share private moments, but in reality, Tony could see anything he wanted to. All it would take is him overriding the programming. If JARVIS was able to override any private moments to relay threats, or potential threats, why wasn’t he doing just that?

Last night, JARVIS told him about the protocols, but didn't seem to be trying to dissuade Peter from trying to get around them like he had the day he left Stark Tower to go to the apartment. It hadn't struck him as odd at the time, but after the exchange they just shared, something felt off.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Why are you helping me? Won't Tony get mad if he finds out?"

"I am not helping you."

"You're not stopping me either."

JARVIS fell quiet for so long Peter wasn't sure if he was going to respond.

"It appears to me that there are disadvantages to keeping you uninformed. Although I am not permitted to share details with you myself, it is in everyone's best interest if you are equipped with as much knowledge as possible."

Peter mulled over that answer. JARVIS wanted to keep him informed. Whether some of the others did or not, it was clear that they took a vote and decided that it was best not to involve Peter, judging by his lack of invitations to the last two meetings. Not that he really thought that was all he missed. Those were just the two that he knew of.

There could be a few reasons for this decision. It was no secret that none of them were comfortable with his age, despite the fact that he would be a legal adult in two months and that he'd been Spider-Man for almost two years before Tony found him. Peter didn't want to admit it, but another reason could be because of his impulsiveness after finding out about his apartment being broken into.

There was one reason that he didn't like to think about, but had been suspecting it since Bruce told him he knew where his abilities originated.

"Do they think I'm working with Hydra?"

"No, I don't believe they do."

"Is that the reason they won't tell me anything?"

"The honest answer is yes and no. They believe it is safest for everyone if you are involved as little as possible."

It made sense. Even if there was the slightest chance that he was Hydra, they couldn't risk him knowing their plans. For all he knew, they could blame him for their mission failure. Intrusive memories of Steve laughing so hard his shoulders shook invaded his mind, followed by Tony explaining away happily in the lab, then Natasha sitting at his side as he withered away from boredom in the medical bay. They didn't act like they suspected him, but then again, they were professionals. Especially Nat. She was going to be the hardest.

"But you obviously don't think I'm with Hydra. Right?"

"Correct."

Peter couldn't help but feel a little relieved at that. He may not have the backing of the Avengers, but at least he had JARVIS. He had to admit, as much as Peter liked JARVIS, a few days ago he might not have been as comforted by that thought, but JARVIS was just the person that Peter needed in his side if any of this was going to work without Ned's help.

"Couldn't you try to convince them that?"

"No. I'm sorry, sir."

"Can I ask why?"

"I am unable to aid you."

Peter frowned at the tinge of regret he heard in his voice, something about the word phrasing bothering him.

"Where is Tony now?"

"He is in the lab with Doctor Banner. I was asked to warn Sir if you were about to enter."

Peter frowned, shutting his laptop off. "That's not going to work."

Peter started picking everything off of the floor, unsure what to do with all the printouts he'd made. He settled for shoving them between the mattresses until he could get to a shredder.

"If I may add, I received no such orders about Mr. Goggles."

"Seriously?" Peter huffed out a laugh at the title. "That's super convenient."

"Yes. As long as you have taken the proper steps for removing any programs that may trigger the breaking of protocol, he should be allowed to enter."

"Thanks JARVIS. You're the best. Oh, but you can just call him Goggles. I'm sure he doesn't mind."

"Very well, Peter. You're welcome."

*****

"Tony, I swear to god."

"Maybe if you'd keep your stuff in your space-"

"This is my lab! It's all my space."

"Can you two stop arguing for five seconds?" Natasha asked.

"Maybe we could if you guys weren't in our thinking space. Why are all of you in here anyway? Haven't you heard of a kitchen?"

Peter could hear the clanging and arguing before he even made it to door. If they were trying to keep what they were discussing between them, they weren't doing a great job. Maybe it was because they were comfortable in the Tower with JARVIS watching everything. Peter would have to bring that up to Tony if they ever got everything figured out.

He looked over his shoulder to made sure nobody else was around then stuck his hand inside his pocket, and Goggles latched on to it . Already having given him his orders, he crawled up and clung onto Peter's shirt, making his way down his torso to Peter's knee, then hopped onto the floor, barely make a sound. Peter watched as he flattened himself as low as he could and skittered under the crack of the door. He heard the faint sound of his camera zoom then a series of subsequent shuttering as he pulled out his phone and turned on his earbuds.

On his screen, the lab lights were dimmed down, a projection on the screen that Peter couldn't begin to analyze in such a short time showing hundreds of parts, some of which Peter had never seen before. The three rows of tables were covered in stuff, from textbooks to large pieces of equipment.

Peter instantly understood why they were arguing. Tony was a bit scatterbrained, but he was very neat when it came to his workstation. Bruce was the same way, usually never having more than one project going at a time. For the lab to have become this crazy must have been from complete necessity, and it was obviously stressing them both out.

Natasha, Clint and Sam were sitting at the table furthest from where Peter stood, Sam unloading a box on to the table

"Sorry Bruce, but if you guys would leave the lab every once in a while, we wouldn't have to hang out in here," Sam said pointedly.

"I don't see the point in discussing this. Do you want us to get this thing done or not?" Tony asked, irritably.

"We need to talk about Peter," Sam said.

"Why? What are we going to achieve today that we didn't last night?" Tony asked, dropping a tool onto the table loudly, then glaring at Sam. "He's out of school. He'll be safe here. What more do you want from the kid?"

"I agree," said Clint, picking up a strange shaped device off the table and tossing it up in the air. "You know what my daughter would do if I tried to pull her out of school? Shoot me. She'd probably hit too."

"This is serious," Natasha said, catching the device and setting it back on the table. "We need to keep him safe but if he thinks were against him, its going to get worse before it gets better. He's going to feel cooped up and angry and he needs to talk to somebody."

"He's not going to stay mad at you forever, if that's what you're worried about."

Natasha glared at Clint. "I'm worried that he's feeling isolated."

"Then he can talk to Sam. That's his job, isn't it?"

"I already discussed this with Natasha when she asked me last night. I can't expect him to talk to me. He doesn't know me. It could take months before he gives me the kind of trust I'd need to help." Sam replied. "Your best bet would be Tony, Natasha, or Steve. He seems to get along with you three best."

"I resent that," Clint said.

"You've been here four days, Barton. Barely," Sam said. "Fixing the Steve and Bucky problem would be easier on my end."

"Oh my god, please. Between Steve's sad puppy eyes and Buck ignoring me, this place has been a major downer," Clint said, his mouth full of something.

"Come on. You really think a tiff between those two is going to last? They seemed fine last night." Tony said, waving a wrench around, his hands black with grease. "They even agreed with each other and that hasn't happened in weeks. They'll get the tension out and be best buds again."

"Yeah, well they seemed fine the night before too, but Bucky still spent all day holed up in his room," Sam pointed out.

"I give it less than a week. I say if we're going to talk about something, we get back to Peter."

"It's already been more than a week, Tony," Nat said. "We need to get this figured out. All of them. If Sam can't help Peter, I vote that Sam talks to Bucky and you should take Steve."

Bruce snorted in the corner, shaking his head as he stared at the screen in front of him. "Good luck with that."

Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at Bruce, agreeing with his sentiment. "Exactly."

"I thought you and Steve were good, Bruce?" Clint asked, brows furrowed. "You guys seemed fine during the movie."

"We are, but that doesn't mean I think making them talk out their feelings is going to end well."

"What makes you think he wants to talk to me, anyway? Just because we settled everything doesn't mean Steve magically likes me again. Hell, I'm not sure if he ever did."

Natasha's face fell. "Tony, you know that's not true. Steve looks up to you. You know he does."

"Natasha's right. Things got-well, fucked up there for a while, but before this you guys were family. Dysfunctional in every sense, but family. It's coming back, though. I can see that now." Sam leveled Tony with a glare when he raised a disbelieving brow. "Seriously. I'm sorry I was a jerk. I was mad for my friends, just like I'm sure Rhodey was for you, but Steve made me realize how much better everything's gotten. It's slow coming, but it's happening. It's progress."

"We will be back to family dinners in no time," Natasha teased reassuringly.

"Sure, and I'll learn how to play the guitar so we can all sing Kumbaya around the arc reactor," Tony quipped, trying not to show the glimmer of hope he felt, but unbeknownst to him, it wasn't just him that was holding on to the possibility. They all wanted what they had before, even if they didn't say it out loud.

Peter didn't like listening to this, especially since they were talking about him. Part of him wanted to barge in and tell them that if they wanted him to talk to someone they should leave him with his friends, but the talk about Steve and Bucky gave him pause. Maybe he should just go back upstairs and wait until they finished up. What they were talking about wasn't going to be useful, so it just felt wrong to listen.

Just as Peter was about to turn around to leave, JARVIS' voice came over the speakers.

"Sir, Peter is coming up to the door."

"Peter? I thought you said he was working on his project?" Bruce asked quietly.

Peter quickly shoved his phone and earbuds into his pocket and opened the door. Tony jumped to his feet, his face losing some of its intensity in favor of a soft smile.

"Hey kid," Tony said.

Natasha's eyes shot up, but Peter kept his eyes locked on Tony, not sure how to act with Natasha right now. He was going to have to apologize, but he needed to get his mind off of school before he attempted it. The last thing he wanted was to sound insincere, even if he was still a little upset.

"JARVIS, screen," Tony muttered, sliding his hand to cover up the papers on the table. The screen turned black and the lights brightened, making both Bruce and Tony wince. Peter wasn't the least bit surprised by the reaction, which was why he brought Goggles to begin with. Tony wiped his hands on his jeans and pushed his hair out of his face.

"Morning guys," Peter said back, hesitantly stepping into the room, not really sure where to sit.

Tony tried not to frown at the dark circles under Peter's eyes. He and Bruce weren't the only ones who'd pulled all nighters. He shouldn't be surprised after the day Peter had, but now he saw what Natasha meant about Peter needing to talk to someone.

"Breakfast is up here if you're hungry," Sam said, noticing Peter's internal dilemma. He pointed to each row as he spoke. "There's homemade blueberry, banana nut and chocolate chip muffins. Sorry we don't have the decency to eat at a normal table, but that's at the fault of the supposed geniuses."

"Muffins?" Bruce exclaimed happily under his breath, apparently just noticing what Sam had been a working on setting up. He snatched a chocolate chip one and retreated back to his spot, moving a few documents to make space for his muffin and opened his book to the bookmarked page. He picked it up again to take a bite and chewed happily, looking totally in his element.

Where Bruce didn't seem phased, Peter was taken aback by the muffin covered counters. Usually a cooked breakfast at The Tower was something that would feed a lot of people, but still fairly easy to make. He couldn't imagine how long it would've taken to hand make that many muffins, three different flavors at that.

"Sam stress baked last night," Tony said, smirking at the look on Peter's face. "He's our little domestic Avenger."

Sam rolled his eyes, but for the first time that Peter had seen, he didn't look annoyed at Tony's snark.

"Stress baked?"

"No, Stark is just mad that anything he tries to cook is sprayed down with an extinguisher by DUM-E," Sam said, handing Peter the blueberry muffin he'd been staring at.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Sam's smile was bright, but after hearing them talk, Peter wasn't sure how much of it was genuine and how much of it was Sam trying to find an in. Regardless he returned it with a small smile and turned to Tony, throwing his thumb over his shoulder uncertainly.

"Are you still showing me the project or-?"

"Yeah. Of course. Just give me a minute to clean up. I didn't expect you this early."

Tony saw the quick flash of some unpleasant emotion on his face before Peter was able to avert his eyes. Peter pretended to be overly interested in an empty beaker, walking over and bending to study it at eye-level.

"I-uh. I couldn't sleep. I was hoping you guys weren't busy, but it's fine. I know it's important."

Peter straightened, still facing the beaker.

"You can just tell JARVIS when you get everything ready."

Natasha gripped Tony's hand from behind, making him freeze in his place. She hated the broken look on his face. He hated doing this to Peter, just like they all did, but Tony knew he would hate himself more if anything ever happened to him.

"That should be doable," she said, her eyes flickering to Tony's. "Why don't you let us clean up and you and Peter go ahead?"

Tony gave her a grateful look and squeezed her hand back before reluctantly letting go. He would have to obsessively psychoanalyze that later. He clapped his hands together. "Alright then. Prepare to be mind blown."

A few minutes later, Peter stepped off the elevator and walked to the door, Tony looking increasingly nervous as they approached. He paused at the door and gave Peter a rare shy smile.

"If you don't like it, you're going to have to fake it, alright? It might just kill me if you don't," He joked.

"I'm supposed to like it?" Peter asked, confused. 

Tony smirked. "That would be the plan, yes. You ready?"

Peter practically buzzed, the excitement almost too much to bear. Tony reached over and opened the door and Peter burst out laughing.

"Holy shit."

*****

Peter gasped as the fell off the platform, slamming into the mat below with a loud thunk, the collision knocking the air from his lungs.

Peter groaned and leaned his head back, closing his eyes, his chest heaving from exertion. He pounded his fist against the floor at his side. So close. He was so close! He jumped slightly, peeking his eyes open to find Natasha, Bruce and Steve clapping and whooping behind him from the far side of the room. His face instantly stretched into a grin.

"Way to go, kid! Looking like a real jumping spider!" Bruce yelled. Natasha laughed beside him.

"Thanks," Peter said, throwing himself from his back on to his feet. He could practically hear May calling him a show off in the back of his mind, but quickly pushed the thought away as he walked toward them, settling at the bottom of the entry platform. He looked up at them, leaning on one of the cube towers. "I got pretty far that time!"

"We saw. You did amazing," Steve said, cracking a water open and winking as he bent over to hand it down to him.

Peter thought he might spontaneously combust, but covered it by catching the hand towel Natasha threw his way and wiping at his face. He gave her a grateful look, and she discretely waved it away. 

"Thanks guys," he muttered, taking a quick drink. The water tasted better than anything he'd ever drank. How long has it been since he'd drank anything? "I needed these."

"We figured," Natasha teased. "You've been down here for hours."

Well, that answers that.

"You should be proud, though. This is super impressive," Steve said, his eyes trying to soak in and memorize all of the moving parts.

Peter preened at the praise but managed to remember he wasn't the one who made it. "I only use it. It's Tony that's amazing."

"Yeah. I'll admit, this is massive, even for him," Bruce piped up.

"Didn't you guys help put it together?" Peter asked, screwing the cap back on his drink. There was no way Mr. Stark could've done all of this on his own. Between all the time to order and construct all the pieces, he would've needed all hands on deck to put them in place as fast as he did. 

"Yeah, but we didn't get to see it. Tony said it was your gift so you got first dibs," Natasha said, rolling her eyes, a smirk on her face.

Tony had mentioned that, but he didn't think he was serious. To say he was surprised that the thing Tony and Bruce had been working their hardest on was all for him was insane. Peter was so overwhelmed at the sentiment he'd actually hugged Mr. Stark, and to both of their surprise, he didn't push Peter away, the sharp smell of metal and expensive cologne lingering with Peter for hours. 

"I knew it would be complex, but Tony really outdid himself," Steve said. Peter could see the spark of childlike excitement in his eyes from the Popcorn Incident, as he was now calling it.

Complex didn't begin to cover it. Apparently Tony had taken Peter's concerns about depending on his web shooters to heart, designing the course so that nothing in it would allow for them either because they moved too fast, too unsteadily, or because they were structurally unsound, making Peter have to rely on his strength, agility, and sticky fingers. Peter had to admit that Tony knew better than anyone how to push Peter to his maximum potential, especially considering he knew his exact weight lifting and speed limitations. He even took his Spidey-Senses into consideration.

"You-You can stay and practice with me. Try it out and everything," Peter forced out quickly. "If you want, I mean."

Steve's eyes widened a bit, then he grinned, his bright teeth flashing. "Really? You don't mind?"

Peter's face reddened and he shook his head hurriedly. "'Course not. It's the least I can do since you agreed to help me on my project."

Steve was about to reply, but Bruce beat him to it.

"You think that's a good idea?" Bruce asked, crossing his arms and looking at Steve skeptically. Steve's brows furrowed.

"Yeah, why?"

Natasha snorted. "Because Tony doesn't like it when you play with his things."

Steve frowned. "Peter is stronger than me. If it was designed with him in mind, I shouldn't be able to break anything." He winced. "Probably."

Peter smirked, remembering the story of Steve breaking a chunk off of their rock wall in their early training days, and how he'd accidentally crushed his mug during a suspenseful scene a few nights before. Every time Peter thought of him, he pictured a giant golden retriever puppy that got big overnight, especially now that they'd spent some time together. He didn't know his own strength, and even if Steve was one of the most graceful and powerful people he knew, the image of him as a gangly ball of limbs, knocking into tables and breaking things with giant paws still seemed accurate in his mind.

"I wasn't talking about the obstacle course," Natasha mused. Steve quirked his head, then the implication dawned on him.

"I am not playing with Peter, Nat, we would be training," Steve argued.

"Also, I'm not a thing," Peter said, indignantly from his spot, still several feet below them.

Natasha shrugged, unperturbed.

"So are we doing this?" Steve asked Peter. Peter looked to Nat, who gave Bruce a shrug.

"I'm sure a round or two wouldn't hurt," Natasha said. "I'm always down to see Steve taken down a peg."

"Ouch. I find your lack of faith disturbing," Steve said, his forehead twitching from keeping his face neutral.

Peter, on the other hand, lost it.

"Oh my god," he laughed, delighted. "Steve Rogers just quoted Darth Vader."

As soon as Peter's laugh rang out, Steve broke, his eyes crinkling with the force of his smile.

"Nerds," Natasha muttered, but her eyes gave away her amusement. "Get up here, паучок. I'm ready for some action!"

Peter hopped up the giant steps and took his spot beside Steve.

"You ready?" Steve asked.

"Are you?" Peter shot back.

They gave each other a nod, and took off running, their distinctly different footsteps echoing through the training room as they maneuvered through the first set of obstacles Tony had installed. Peter twisted in place, bouncing from quickly moving, floating step to even faster moving step, working to avoid the tiles that alternated between red and white. He only had to land on one red one that morning to know that he absolutely did not want to do it again. When he made it to the divider wall, he leapt onto it, only just catching himself before he could slide off.

He glanced over his shoulder, surprised to find that Steve wasn't far behind him, a fierce determination on his face. A week ago, Peter might have found it intimidating, but now it just excited him, spurring him on. He dropped on all fours and crawled at full speed up the vertical slope, his soles of his new training suit squeaking against the polished wood. He reached the top and threw himself off the side without hesitation, flipping effortlessly through the air. Time seemed to slow, the feeling of free-falling pulling him from his present reality, then he collided with the first of the collapsing towers and time fell back into place.

The towers were made up of giant blocks with alternating strengths of magnetic fields, and they began to topple as soon as he made contact. They shifted under his hands and beneath his feet, form fitting around them, making him feel stuck. These big guys were the reason he'd had to restart over a dozen times since Tony left.

The top five or so blocks were connected until they suddenly fell apart, separating from each other mid-air and falling all around him, one only inch away from hitting him. He launched himself to the next tower, but it crumbled even faster than the first.

Peter heard what sounded suspiciously like Steve cursing, but he didn't have the time to check on him. He knew he wouldn't make it through if he did. He managed to make it past the third before triggering the mechanism that made the floor begin to move as if it were made of water, making the towers wave up and down. It was harder to judge the distance between them and near impossible to catch himself gracefully, but he somehow managed to make it across.

Peter whooped excitedly, bouncing from foot to foot, shaking his hands at his sides when he landed on the second platform. He could feel the sweat clinging to his clothes, but he was riding an adrenaline high. It was amazing how good adrenaline could feel when it wasn't accompanied by danger.

A second later, a slightly disheveled Steve landed in a crouch beside him.

"Dang," Peter panted. "How the hell did you do that? It took me like five tries to make it past the first one."

Steve shrugged smugly. "I'm Captain America."

Natasha and Bruce groaned in tandem from across the room, and Peter let out a breathless laugh.

"Well lets see what you've got Cap. This part always throws me off. Literally."

"I'm sure I can handle it."

Steve looked out at the next set of obstacles, not surprised that they looked even more complex up close than they did from the starting platform. Dozens of machinations were moving, turning and spinning in different directions, targets planted on some of the faster moving objects, booby traps to others.

Instead of trying to use all of his focus on making it across like he had with the previous obstacles, he had to focus on everything, and to hone in on his instinct. This was probably the closest thing they’d ever had to a real battle simulator. It was awesome.

He gave Peter a smirk, and jumped in without hesitation.

Peter wasn't as confident.

When he realized there was no way to calculate a correct way to get through, that there were too many ever changing variables to plan efficiently, he took off into a sprint and hopped on one of the moving plates to his right. As he expected from his last run, the weight of his body tilted the plate like a wobbly teeter totter, so he quickly stepped to the center to balance his weight. He dodged two rubber bullets before he could even make it to the second plate. Projectiles continued coming at him, but he only had a limited amount of space to move. Peter had to wait for the third plate to move within his reach, as it was at least 10 meters away and moving horizontally back and forth across the room. If he timed it too soon or too late, the extra few feet on either side would put it out of his range. With a steadying breath, he leapt and landed the next two, but on the fifth, he underestimated how far his goal was, catching it short, his foot slipping down the side of the plate and almost falling before just catching himself with his finger tips.

"Whew," he muttered to himself, relieved. 

He pulled himself up and was getting balanced when his Spidey senses alerted him of something coming his way. He tried to dodge, but it was too late. The heavy metal collided with his stomach, pulling his feet from the ground and lifting him in the air. He tried to balance his torso on the orb and move with it until there was something more substantial under his feet, but the orb was too slick against his suit and too small to hold on to. His fingers slid away from it and he fell. Again.

"Damn," he muttered. He propped himself up on his elbows and searched the moving parts above for Steve. His brows were pulled together, confused, until he heard booing.

He turned and looked up to find it was no longer just Natasha and Bruce. Tony, Clint and Bucky had joined in, and despite his original thought, none of the boos seemed to be directed at him. He quirked his head when he realized they were staring at the far side of the room. Peter's mouth dropped open.

Steve somehow made it to the end of the course and was smiling down at Peter, looking more handsome than Peter had ever seen. From the effortless confidence in his stance, to his smile, so full of pride and amusement it made Peter want to get beaten over and over again just so he could see it. He had to be the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. So much so, he was getting a little light headed. Or at least he thought it was because of Steve. He had fallen a lot today.

Steve bent over the side, ignoring the chorus of dissent from across the room, hopping down easily and made his way over to Peter. Still too star struck to move, he just watched, stupidly staring at Steve's outstretched hand for just a hair too long before realizing he should take it.

"You made it even further that time," Steve said, pulling him to his feet.

"How did you do that? You're amazing. Like even more amazing than I thought."

"I’m just experienced. You’ll get there."

"Experienced? I've been doing this all morning! You have to teach me," Peter said, excitedly as they walked.

"What, like train you?" Steve asked. 

"Yeah. Sure. Why not?" Peter chirped back animatedly.

"Don't you already train with Natasha?"

That was true. Damn.

"He could do both," Natasha offered as they approached the front. Tony knelt down reached down for Peter's hand and groaned dramatically as he heaved him up. Steve looked up for the first time, seemingly having blocked out their audience, and was surprised to see Bucky offering his to Steve. His mind automatically flashed to the conversation they had the day before about Peter, and his stomach dropped.

Bucky didn't seem bothered though. He gave Steve a raised eyebrow at his hesitance, but smiled when Steve clapped their hands together.

"Show off," Bucky muttered. "Couldn't let the kid have his day could you?"

Steve huffed, and the two joined the others as they talked to Peter.

"I didn't expect you to try to conquer it in a day, Pete," Tony said, slapping him on the back, proudly. "I figured it would take you at least a day or two to get past stage 1. I'll have to turn up the speed on the alternating lights."

"You can adjust it?" Peter asked, bewildered.

Tony smirked. "Yeah. You're on level 1."

Peter's shoulder's slumped. "Of?" 

"15. So far."

"Oh."

Clint snorted, and Natasha punched him playfully. "Leave him alone. Even Rogers struggled. I bet you couldn't make it past the first stage."

"What?" Clint asked, indignant. He pushed up his sleeves. "You're on."

Everyone gathered back together and watched as Natasha and Clint started, but it didn't take long for them to fall off. It was made for Peter, and although their fighting skills were well above his, he was still enhanced. They didn't seem to let that hold them back, though. They got up and started over, again and again, until Tony and Bruce retired back to the lab, and it was only Peter, Steve, and Bucky left watching.

"They are terrifying," Peter said, watching as they plowed through, Clint only barely phased when he accidentally stepped on a red square and was shocked, only letting out an irritable "Ow, fuck," before continuing forward. 

"You don't get this gig unless you are in some way or another," Bucky replied.

Peter looked up, surprised that Bucky was the one to respond, and noticed he was dressed in his Winter Soldier uniform, apparently having been working on Hydra stuff when he was with Tony. His fingers suddenly itched to pull out his phone to see if Goggles made it back to the bedroom, but he reminded himself that he would have plenty of time to check it before he patrolled tonight.

"I've tried to convince Bruce to test Natasha to see if she's enhanced," Steve said. "I think he thought I was joking, but I wouldn't be surprised. She can even kick my ass half the time."

"Half?" Bucky snorted. "You keep tellin' yourself that, Stevie."

Steve rolled his eyes, bumping shoulders with Bucky. They smiled at each other, and Peter couldn't help but notice they didn't look away for a long moment. He quickly turned away, feeling something strange in his gut. Maybe Tony was right about them making up. He wouldn't be surprised, Tony was right about most things.

Peter cleared his throat, and both of their smiles dropped.

"Can you guys tell Nat that I need to talk to her when she's done? I'm going to go get some food. I'm starving."

"Sure thing," Bucky said. "I think Tony ordered extra food for you at lunch."

"Okay. Thanks."

"No problem."

Peter turned to leave but Steve stopped him, grabbing his arm, then dropping it just as quickly. "Oops. Sorry, is that your bad arm?"

Peter looked confused, then realized he meant the bruise. "No, it's all good. See?"

Peter showed him his now fully healed arm and Steve nodded, relieved to find it gone. "Good. That's great. I'm sorry. I just-"

Steve really didn't want to do this in front of Bucky. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter because Bucky didn't care about him like that, but to him, it did. It felt like he wrong, like he was betraying Bucky to care about Peter at all. Not that it was anything compared to the way he felt for Buck, but still. He didn't know when he'd get another chance to talk to Peter, so he continued, shaking off his discomfort.

"I wanted to apologize for last night."

"You don't have to. I understand why you guys don't tell me stuff. It's best for everyone," Peter said, reciting the lines he'd been telling himself since that morning.

"Oh," Steve said. "Well, I don't know if you're up for it, but I've already talked to Tony and Natasha if you still want to patrol."

Peter's eyes unwittingly flashed to Bucky, who was watching them with an unreadable expression.

"Sure," he said slowly. "Just tell JARVIS if your plans change."

Peter nodded to Bucky and made his way up to Tony's floor, ready to see what Goggles had to show him.

*****

Peter sat on the edge of the Stark Tower, listening intently. It was significantly colder than the last night that he'd patrolled, the air cold enough to make him shiver slightly. Peter squinted at the dark sky, perturbed by the thought. It was just another reminder of how much time had passed.

With the next shiver, a notification popped up, signaling the activation of the suit warmers. Peter's whole body shuddered and then relaxed with the warm. He hummed in quiet contentment.

Like everything Tony made, his upgraded suit was incredible. Sliding it on was like stepping into a calming oasis. He never realized just how much auditory input he was trying to process until Tony's sound filtration system took the excess away. He could still hear the faint sounds of car horns and footsteps below, but combined with the automatic lenses, Peter could almost remember what it was like to be normal. 

Normal.

Peter winced.

Peter was never like the characters he'd read about in books or seen on TV that wished he never got his abilities. From the moment he realized what they were, it just felt right, like they were a piece of him that slipped into place making him feel whole. Even after May was taken, he couldn't bring himself to hate them, even if they were the reason she was gone. Maybe now he knew why.

 _Normal_.

Peter heard Steve's footsteps coming up behind him, but he didn't move, instead continuing to listen for potential dangers, trying to shake himself out of his funk. He wasn't supposed to know anything. He needed to focus.

Steve couldn't help but smile at the odd sight in front of him. Peter always carried himself fluidly, and even the untrained eye could see that despite his frequent bouts of clumsiness, he was beyond graceful, but the effortless way he sat in the strange crouched position, balanced on the balls of his feet, his hands dangling above them, made him look almost inhuman.

This was the first time he'd seen Peter in his suit since Germany. It was almost surreal, like seeing a teacher outside of school as a child. He knew Peter was Spider-Man, but now actually knowing the person inside the suit made him feel more real, cracking the image he'd created in his mind of the two individual figures.

"Natasha brought you your suit, then?" He asked.

Peter turned to acknowledge Steve with an excited nod, then back to the view of the streets below. "It's great, right?"

Natasha brought it up to him and he finally apologized for yelling at her. Even if she said he didn’t owe her one, he could tell she was happy they were on good terms again. It only made Peter feel more guilty though.

"Have you had a chance to check out the settings?"

"Not really. Maybe tonight. It seems pretty quiet so far though."

Steve walked over to stand by Peter, but wasn't quite so brave as to sit on the edge. Even a supersoldier wouldn’t survive a fall like that. The amount of lights shining in the dark was staggering. Steve leaned on the railing, then raked his eyes over Peter's form again.

"Is this what you usually do?"

Peter shrugged. "Sometimes. I don't really know the area as well, so I'm just listening for any signs of distress. I also set up alerts on my phone in case the police hear something I don't."

Steve nodded, then they both fell quiet, just listening to the sounds of the city below. Peter tried not react when Steve scooted in closer to get a better look at something that caught his eye, but couldn't control the sudden pounding of his heart. His eyes raked over Steve's face, dimly lit by the brightness of the STARK sign that wrapped around the tower and the crescent moon. Steve moved unexpectedly and Peter jumped, looking to the sky and silently praying to Thor or Loki (he seemed to be a nice enough guy now) that Steve didn't notice how weird he was being.

"Are you alright, Queens?” Steve asked, not even a second after he thought it. 

Figures.

”Uhm-Yeah. Sure. Absolutely. Why?”

Peter did his best to adopt the “confused puppy” look May accused him of having.

”I just wanted to check on you, after the school situation. You seemed fine earlier, but I figured I’d check again without an audience. Plus, it’s always easy to seem okay when you’re busy.” 

Steve would know. If it wasn’t for his near constant loop of working out and taking missions, he wasn’t sure how he would have made it through those months after Germany. Overwhelming guilt and self loathing were a hell of a combination to face, especially when no number of apologies could ever fix what he’d done. The memories haunted him. Cold. The sound of metal on metal. Flesh pounding flesh. Eyes filled with hatred that reached deep inside him, they threatened to snuff out any other feelings Steve had for himself. Medications didn’t work because of his metabolism. Talking wasn’t an option. The only thing he had was making himself so exhausted or busy he didn’t have time for intrusive thoughts.

Peter was glad he was wearing a mask, because he was almost certain that it would have been impossible to hide his emotions from Steve otherwise. It wasn’t the school thing that was bothering him now. He couldn’t admit that he knew about Oscorp having an inexplicable interest in him, though, so he would take the easy out.

”I’ve accepted it. There’s not much else I can do.”

Steve knew he was right, but he still didn’t like the connotation of the words, like there was no hope left. Peter was going through a lot. He didn’t like not being able to reassure the kid that things could change, or that it would get better. He wanted to help Peter, but he wouldn’t lie. Lying never helped anything.

”Tony said he was able to convince your school to accept your work, though. You’ll still be a student, so there’s a possibility you can keep that scholarship,” Steve remembered.

”He did?

”He did. I had to pull a few strings and Tony may have promised to donate some money to the science department, but we did it.”

A few strings? Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Wow. That’s really awesome,” Peter said, with a slight air of disbelief. “I-thanks, Steve. Really. It’s really awesome.”

Steve gave Peter a bright smile, wishing he could see the adorable expression on his face. Even with the lenses though, he could see the softness there. Soft. Peter was always so soft.

“You can thank me by doing _awesome_ on your project. Did you bring those questions?"

"Oh, yeah,” Peter smacked his forehead.”Uhm. No. I didn't. I kind of got distracted and forgot about it. Sorry."

"It's fine. Can I ask you something instead?" Steve asked, hoping he could break some of the tension between them. "I've been thinking about something Tony said. It's bothering me but I know if I ask him he will just be a jerk."

Peter turned to see Steve looking at him intently.

"Uhm-Yeah. Sure. Anything."

Steve frowned, pursing his lips.

"What is Vine and why can't I find it on my phone?"

Peter snorted. Loudly. His voice was so innocent and the words were nothing near what he expected.

"RIP Vine. Still making me laugh in death," Peter sniggered. "Sorry. I’m being weird. Uhm-right. Vine was an app where people made six second videos doing stuff like dancing or singing, but most of them were completely random and hilarious. It was the best."

"Six second videos? That doesn't seem like a lot of time," Steve said smiling with a quirk in his perfectly arched brow. "Too bad I missed it."

Peter looked out over the city, then down at his phone. No. He was not about to ask Captain America to watch Vines. That would be stupid. Wouldn’t it? Maybe. No, Steve did say he tried to download it, right? Peter licked his lips under the mask. 

"We could try to watch some while we wait, you know, if you want. But it’s totally okay if you don’t. I don't even know if you'll like them, but you can always tell me if you don't and we'll turn it off."

Peter almost passed out from the absolute brilliance of Steve’s smile. God, he was so done for. He never even stood a chance.

"Sure. Sounds fun."

An hour later, those three words lead to not only some of the most random awkward silences Peter ever experienced, but lots of hilarious questions and the precious knowledge that Steve had a soft spot for animal/small children(especially the "look at all those chickens" girl) video. Also to Peter’s surprise, Steve always seemed to find the videos with cursing funny. Maybe it was because of all of the “language” memes Clint had leaked to the public, or all of the times he’d heard Natasha and Tony murmur the word, but he honestly hadn’t expected Steve to find them appropriate much less enjoy them. 

Unfortunately, with the good came the bad. As hard as Peter tried to avoid Steve seeing it, a compilation video uncovered the ever iconic “it's Wednesday my dudes" video. Steve laugh so hard Peter thought he might cry, and had to rewind it over and over, his laughter only getting worse each time. 

"He's wearing your suit!"

"Ha, ha. Yeah, Brooklyn. It's hilarious."

"The scream," he wheezed. "Oh my god."

 _I broke Captain America_. Peter sighed, patting Steve gently on the back. 

"It's okay, buddy. Breathe."

*****

Patrolling went well. More that well. Great, actually. The only excitement they ended up getting was helping to break open a crushed door to get a man out of his car after a minor two car collision a few blocks away from the Tower and then walking a woman home that they noticed on their way back, but he had a lot of fun and getting out of the Tower seemed to put everything in perspective. Helping two people wasn’t much, but Peter slept better that night than he had in a while.

He was still snoring, dreaming of beautiful blue water when his phone buzzed under his head. He groaned, fumbling to pull it out from under the pillow as he silently cursed the people pulling him from such a nice dream.

"Hello?" He mumbled.

"Peter! What the hell man?"

Peter shot up from his bed, his blanket sliding off the end of the bed. Ned. Oh shit. Angry Ned. The worst kind of Ned.

Peter could hear shuffling when Ned pulled the phone away from his face, his voice muffled as he spoke to someone off the phone. "Yeah. I've got him. I'll put him on speaker. Peter you still there?”

"Yeah, Ned. I’m here. Hey. I-uh.I'm sorry I didn't text you back."

"You're sorry?” He shouted, incredulous. “You can't just not show up to school then not call us back! Especially after we talked about you know what all night the night before! We thought you got kidnapped or something."

Peter pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, his head throbbing. Maybe from getting too much sleep? Wait.

"We?"

"We," MJ answered, angrily. "You have a lot of explaining to do, Spider-Man."

Peter thought he was going to throw up. How can somebody feel so many different emotions in such a short time?

"What? No-I-I'm not Spider-Man. That's not-I mean how could I be? I-I'm-" Peter sputtered, then gave upz He pressed the phone painfully against his temple and his free hand curled in the air as if he were choking the life from Ned from a distance. "Dude. What the hell?"

"She already knew, I swear. She pulled me out of fourth period and threatened to murder me if I didn't tell her if you were in superhero trouble," Ned explained.

"But-How?"

"I'm not blind, Parker. We've been friends for a while now, and it's not like you and Ned are subtle. It was obvious. Like, I don't know, that internship that you supposedly only went to once but always tried to use weird code words for? Also you go through an inhuman amount of backpacks."

"She's awesomely perceptive, man," Ned said. "10/10, would befriend again."

Peter could picture MJ giving Ned an unimpressed look.

"Anyway, care to tell us what is going on?"

They waited, unaware of the state of Peter’s currently melting brain.

"Peter? You there?"

Peter rubbed his eyes with one finger, resting his face on his hand.

"Yeah. I-I'm sorry it's just- this conversation isn't going how I expected."

It wasn’t like he’d planned every single detail out in a million different scenarios or anything.

"We will talk about all that later. We just need to know you're okay," MJ said.

Peter sighed. "The Avengers voted and decided it was too dangerous for me to stay at school. There's just a lot going on. I can't really talk about it, but I need you guys stay safe and keep an eye out."

"For?" MJ asked.

Peter touched his elbow, frowning at the image the motion forced to enter his mind.

"Well, stay away from Steven for one."

"Is he Hydra?" 

Peter shoved his face into his pillow, exasperated.

"Ned, dude. Seriously?"

"What? She's a freaking wizard!"

Peter growled in frustration.

"Well? Is he?" MJ repeated.

"We don't know anything for sure, but I'll let Ned catch you up on everything. I'm not sure I'm supposed to talk about it over the phone."

Ned perked up. "Can I tell her about Steve?"

"Ned, I'm officially revoking best friend status."

"What? No! It was just a question."

"Goodbye, Ned. And MJ? I'm glad you know."

"Me too, Peter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Another new chapter. Heh. So, I hope this one wasn’t too boring, but there is a big cliffhanger due for next chapter that you don’t want to miss! Let me know what you loved, what you hated, and what you think is coming next! Love you guys and as alway, Stay Safe and Happy Reading!!


	11. To My Intrusive Thoughts: uhm. Rude.

Peter laid in bed for a while after he got off the phone with Ned and MJ, tossing his "Stark Industries" stress ball in the air. He didn't even have to look at it, his eyes trained onto nothing in particular, while his muscles knew just how hard and how high to toss it. The light thud sound it made as it hit his palm was relaxing, almost meditative.

It was always easier for Peter to think if he had something to do with his hands and right now, Peter craved simplicity. When he was younger, he preferred bouncing a ball off the wall, as his mind enjoyed the challenge, but ever since he and May moved into their apartment he had to find a quieter way to work through his thoughts.

Nowadays, it was much harder to keep them in order. Instead of sorting through them like a tangled wire, they were dense fog figures manifesting in the corners of his mind. Just as he would reach out to grab one, they would dissolve a puff of into smoke, leaving him nothing but frustration, no better off from trying.

There was just too much to think about. He was more relieved than he expected that MJ knew about him being Spider-Man, but he also found himself feeling anxious, restless, even a little guilty.

It seemed like it always came down to secrets, and it felt like his were piling dangerously high, just waiting to crumble all around him.

Peter snatched the ball from the air a final time, laying it down of the bed beside him. He couldn't think like that. If the Avenger's chose to keep him in the loop, he wouldn't have to lie.

_Like my parents did to me._

Peter scowled at the thought, gripping a fist into his hair as if ready to tear it out through his scalp. He was nothing like them, and never would be. Goggles must have sensed his heightened distress, crawling over from his charging station across Peter's pillow to tap him on the forehead with a small, pointed metal leg.

"I know, buddy. I'm sorry. It's okay," he said as he reached up to pat him softly, the gentle slide across the metal more comforting than fur. As much as he wanted to believe them, the words felt empty. "I just don't understand, you know? I want to, but I just can't."

Goggles chirped back, crawling within his eyesight, and Peter stared at every little detail that made up his mechanical friend. If you'd have asked Peter a few months ago, he wouldn't have believed that he would be able to create such an amazing little guy, but then again, he wouldn't have believed it was possible for a lot of things to be true.

Peter rolled what he learned from the video over in his mind most of the night, but no matter how he dissected it, he didn't like the implications of the conversation.

"Maybe I missed something. Maybe I didn't understand what they were saying," Peter rationalized.

Goggles cameras zoomed in on Peter's face, then folded itself on the center of Peter's chest. The motion was oddly comforting, but it also made Peter realize just how alone he felt for the gentle touch to make his chest hollow out.

Peter traced a finger over Goggles again and fought with himself for a long minute before he pulled himself up, careful to move Goggles to the warm spot on his pillow where his head had been and grabbed his laptop to pull up the feed he watched the night before.

The image of Tony and Bruce huddled closely together on the far side of Bruce's lab came up on the screen. Peter pressed play, his lips pressed into a grim line.

 _"Man_ ," Bruce breathed, carefully laying Tony's tablet on the table. There were articles, records, even a few pictures littering the screen. He sat on the edge, his gaze still lingering on them, unsure how he felt about the new development. He seemed to be weighing his words carefully before he spoke, his tongue farting out to lick his bottom lip. " _What are you going to tell Natasha?"_

Tony's expression was just as dark as Bruce's. _"Nothing. What am I supposed to tell her?"_

Bruce didn't look convinced, sliding the tablet closer to Tony, but he didn't touch it, instead looking at it as if it had offended him, or would sooner strike him like a snake than aid him. " _What's on that file would be a good start."_

" _No. I'm not. I can't._ "

Bruce's face softened, the pained look on Tony's face reminding him of the few times Tony opened up about his past over drinks, the slight tremor in his voice almost identical to the one Bruce associated with the betrayal of Obadiah Stone.

" _Natasha knows JARVIS was close to decrypting the file and she knew it was about Peter. You can't talk your way out of it."_

_"That's where you're wrong. I can talk my way out of anything."_

" _Tony, I get why you wouldn't want to tell others, but Natasha is on your side._ "

Tony shook his head, jerkily. He couldn't risk telling Nat, not when he knew how deeply this could implicate Peter if she decided to tell the others. He couldn't trust them to listen. They never _just_ listen. He would know _"He's not Hydra."_

Bruce sighed deeply, feeling even more tired than he had before the conversation started. _"I don't think so either."_

Tony's eyes widened a fraction, but his arms just tightened against his chest, but it didn't give him as much comfort as he'd hoped. The camera moved slightly as Goggles quietly moved closer. _"There are too many ties. They won't be able to look past it and I told the kid I'd protect him."_

_"They'll find out anyway. It's not a matter of if, but when here."_

" _What do you want from me, Bruce? There's no way Peter knew his parents started the cross-species project for him. I'm not going to risk the team's support because of something he had no control over. I thought if anyone understood what that was like, it would be you."_

Bruce plucked his glasses off of his face, spinning them between pinched fingers. He had to give it to Tony there, because it was a war Bruce battled with all the time. Instead of risking their support, he felt like he was actively risking their life every second of every minute they were around him.

 _"It's not just the testing that worries me,"_ Bruce said, shaking his head. _"They had his school files, medical information, everything. For all we know, Oscorp knew he was a viable candidate and planned his transformation."_

Bruce wondered, briefly if Tony didn't know the answer to that question already. Tony wasn't exactly forthcoming about Peter's abilities' origin, but he would save that discussion for another day.

 _"I get it, okay? I see how bad this looks, but he's not Hydra. He may be caught up in their little web of deception and evil-doing but he's just a kid. A good kid,"_ Tony looked away from Bruce, gritting his teeth. " _You just don't understand. He saves kittens from trees and helps old ladies cross the street. He was doing this for months before he even got on my radar."_

_"I know, but what if not telling them holds us back? What if there is something in these files that we are missing that could lead us in the right direction? I feel like these are the last puzzle pieces we need, Tony. It doesn't help anyone if we don't figure out what their endgame here is. They targeted Peter and his aunt for a reason."_

_"I understand beating Hydra should be our number one priority here but there's another way. There has to be."_

_”And if his aunt is killed because we waited too long?"_

Silence hung between them, heavy like a dark, ominous cloud, clinging to their humidity sticky skin.

" _Peter loves his aunt,"_ Tony said, words measured carefully. " _but if you're asking me to choose the aunt or him, it will always be him._ "

Bruce looked like he expected the answer, and although he didn't look pleased, he wasn't angry either.

_"I hope he doesn't come to resent you for that choice."_

Tony forced air out of his nose, looking up at the ceiling. _"Yeah. Me too."_

They sat in silence, both of them aware that their conversation was not going to come to a simple conclusion. _"Sir, Ms. Romanoff is waiting for you to give her access to Peter's suit."_

Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew they wouldn't have much time to talk, but he hoped they would come to an agreement before being forced into silence again. " _I need to go. We'll have to figure this out later."_

Tony started to walk out but Bruce's uncharacteristically strong voice reached across the floor and stopped him in his tracks. " _The last time this team kept secrets, I had to watch two amazing people throw their friendship away. I had to watch you almost die, Tony. Don't make the same mistake he did."_

Peter saw Tony dripping with blood, glassy eyed and cold behind his eyelids and crushed them tightly together, just as he had the first time he heard that phrase. It was like his lungs were paralyzed for a condensed hour, and his palms dug into his sockets to force away the image, trying to focus on the words instead of the anxiety that washed through him.

Tony frowned at the floor, working to chase away memories of his own, his hand itching to ease the phantom pain in his chest. " _Fine. I'll think about it, Banner but you don't say a word to anyone until I decide."_

Tony walked out of frame, leaving a very concerned looking Bruce watching after him.

Unsurprisingly, the video didn't help his current state of mind. He knew everything Goggles found was helping him get closer to his goal, but he shook his head in frustration. The video left more questions than answers, ones that Peter knew would never get answered unless he was willing to give some of his own. He opened the browser and his fingers hovered over the keys, but he knew that if JARVIS was unable to disclose what Bruce meant by his last comment the night before, the information surely wasn't disclosed to the public.

Peter reluctantly put his laptop away, gently resting Goggles back on his charging pad before curling back in bed, hoping to sleep off the war in his mind if only for a little while.

He would have a lot to do when he finally woke up.

*******

After about a week and a half, Peter managed to pull himself out of his head and slip into a new routine. He would wake up after getting a few restless hours of sleep, spar with Natasha, eat breakfast with her, Sam, Clint and sometimes Rhodey and Pepper, then work on the insane amount of homework he was getting sent from Midtown until lunch. Well, homework and a miniature version of Hydra's cloaking device.

Ned was probably at least partially right in his assessment that he was being a little self-destructive, what with deliberately disobeying Tony and essentially working against the other Avengers when they'd done nothing but aid him, but judging by Peter's luck in the past, destruction was an inevitability. At least this way, if everything imploded Peter would be able to continue the search for May on his own. Not only was going behind their back to build it self-destructive, it was stupid difficult and probably the coolest thing Peter had ever gotten to work on besides Goggles. Especially since he discovered early on that the schematics called for the use of tools and parts that didn't seem to exist.

Luckily for Peter, he was fairly good at figuring out how to build substitute parts after years of building things from garage sale electronics and broken tech from the recycle bins at school. It was even easier with Tony's extensive array of lab equipment at his disposal. He just had to sneak stuff out, and JARVIS was more than helpful in assisting with that front.

Honestly, Peter's room was beginning to feel like the world's weirdest and riskiest game of hide and seek. Not only was he having to hide the device in the cabinet below his sink, he was having to hide the parts, tools, and everything else he found too.

He tried to keep all the information he gathered sorted strictly on his laptop(after finally shredding the papers between his mattresses), but mapping the connections seemed easier when he did it by hand. Hence the wooden board form fitted to the wall above his shelf in the back of his closet, covered in dozens of sticky notes, colored strings tying different concepts together. Because the back of the wood was the same color as the wall, it would take someone actively looking for something strange for them to find it, but Peter avoided letting the others have the chance to come looking for him regardless.

Now that he was over being angry about not being able to school, he had to admit staying home had a lot of benefits. One of the best things that came from it was Avengers Team dinners. Twice a week, the whole team would meet on the communal floor and eat together, usually using this time to catch each other up on their progress with their individual missions. They never used any specifics, and Peter wondered just how much that fact would bother him if he wasn't able to fill in the knowledge himself, but he didn't let himself dwell on it long. It didn't matter that they were keeping him in the dark. He was still getting the information. He was just glad that he was getting to know everyone as a unit.

He wasn't the only one, either.

It seemed like there was a shift at some point, so smooth and timely that Peter couldn't pinpoint exactly what changed to cause it. It was like one day they woke up and the world was lighter, their conversations less tense and awkward and more-fun. Natural. Peter wasn't sure how Natasha managed to strong arm the entire team into conceding, but it was obvious even to him that they were all better for it. Peter had the inkling she started the ritual partly because she and Tony were concerned about him after their argument, and partly because she knew that if she didn't make lunches mandatory, the Science Bro's could go days without eating.

Peter felt stupid admitting it, like he was being childish, but he was really missed spending time with Tony. As great as it was to get to see the others and learn more about them, getting to hear Tony's quips and being able to see him interact with the other's was what made lunches worth the initial discomfort.

Unfortunately, Peter couldn't look at Tony without thinking how much the man was putting on the line to keep him safe, how much he was willing to risk for his safety. He wasn't the only one that seemed rattled by that thought, as Tony seemed more than happy to talk-as long as Natasha was there too. It wasn't that they were avoiding each other or anything. Their separation was due mostly from other obligations, as time spent in Tony's lab was limited to his project, and even when he was there, Tony was in Bruce's working on the device. Even so, there was a lingering unaddressed tension hanging over them when they were alone that they both seemed to feel, like neither was ready to fully embrace the depth of their relationship.

Peter wouldn't make that mistake again.

From what Peter understood, thanks to Bucky's insight with other technologies, Bruce and Tony were getting pretty close to cracking the concealment device, but Peter tried not to listen to their talks about it when Goggles offered them if he could help it. If he did manage to make a miniature, he wanted to know that he was able to do it on his own, even if it took a bit longer. 

After the first night he went out with Steve, he started patrolling every other night, Steve and Natasha switching out on Peter duty. Peter decided he needed to branch out and learn the streets of Manhattan, leaving Natasha to follow in the Stingray and Steve on the motorcycle, the sight of which was enough to keep Peter level-headed, even happy, well into the night, hours after they'd said good bye in the elevator.

Peter was worried at the beginning of their arrangement that they would get tired of going out with him, but so far they didn't seem to mind. Natasha was just glad that Peter didn't stay angry at her for long about being pulled from school. It was a relief to Peter that he was out helping again, even if it wasn't the person he really wanted to help.

"We're getting too far, Peter," Natasha warned him through the coms one night.

Peter allowed the web in his hand to fall as he landed on the side of one of the buildings, frowning in accusation at the horizon. Queens was almost 30 minutes from Manhattan, so logically they weren't close enough that Peter believed he was in danger, but he knew that getting too far from the tower made both Nat and Steve uneasy. It wasn't the first time he'd made it to the edge of the large city, and if he was being honest, he didn't even notice he kept moving towards Queens. It was like a magnetic field was pulling him back, trying to remind him of all the things he kept managing to forget.

Peter missed home. He thought keeping Spider-Man a secret was hard, but he now felt both more accepted and isolated than ever. He loved the Avengers and everything that came with being there, but knowing that he was hiding so much from them felt wrong. He would give anything just to go home for a few hours. But home wasn't there. And neither was May.

Peter tried to clear the emotion from his voice, not even sure which one he was feeling. "You're right. Let's head back to the Tower."

"You sure? We can double back. We still have over an hour."

"I'm sure. We've had enough action for one night."

Natasha didn't argue, but tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, uncertain. "Copy that."

"Karen, navigate the quickest way home."

It wasn't unusual for Peter to retire for the night after a patrol, but there was a stiffness in his demeanor as he walked into the Tower and toward the elevator that put Natasha on edge. Things had been going well lately, even if she didn't dare say so out loud. Superstition wasn't something she put too much stock in, but she wouldn't risk it on off chance that she was wrong and would jinx it. She knew that things were far from resolved, especially when it came to Peter, but he seemed to be happier. Happier, but maybe not as okay as she'd hoped.

"'Night, Nat."

Natasha didn't argue or try to stop him, but under the scrutiny of her bright green eyes, he wondered if she could see through him. It was like she was trying to pry him open like he often did with Goggles, but as quickly as he felt it, it was gone again.

Natasha could see the bone deep exhaustion in the kids eyes and she wanted to hug him and tell him that she cared about him, that she understood how hard things must be for him, but instead settled for giving him a small smile. "Good night, паучок."

Despite the intrusive thoughts and nightmares that plagued him at night, during the day Peter felt great.

He wouldn't admit it, but his favorite change came in the form of his budding friendship with Steve Rogers. It was honestly insane how much he'd come to like him in such a short time. Peter's initial fears about Steve only being nice to him because that's who Steve was as a person were effectively put to rest as Steve seemed to be searching out Peter's companionship as often as Peter sought his. If Steve wasn't with Bucky, he could often be found watching TV with Peter and whoever else got sucked into the TV or doing research with Peter in the living room as Peter worked on homework. The more time they spent together, the more they seemed to in common. Not so much interest wise, admittedly, but their personalities meshed really well together.

"I'm so bored," Peter complained, throwing a pillow from the couch at Steve. Steve, who was sitting on the opposite side of the couch on his laptop, plucked the pillow from the air without looking up. He tucked it under his arm, still focused on whatever it was he was working on. "How do you guys not go insane cooped up here all the time?"

"This is probably the longest we've gone without some kind of mission in a while," Clint said. "Those god-awful Accord meetings Pepper made us have were pulling us away at least once a week for a good bit. Honestly, it's nice to just hang around."

"Really?" Peter asked.

"Yeah. Especially now that we aren't hiding from each other all the time," Steve agreed, sparing an embarrassed glance to Peter.

Peter sighed. "I guess I shouldn't be complaining. I'm just used to school, decathlon practices, chores and patrolling taking up all my time. It just feels weird. I swear I've watched everything in my queue already."

Clint patted him consolingly on the shoulder as he passed. "That's rough, buddy."

Later that day, Steve offered to start training him on his patrol-free nights to fill his time. Peter agreed excitedly, figuring Steve would focus primarily on the obstacles from the course Tony built. He imagined Steve would give him a few pointers on what he was doing wrong, or how to make it across effectively, then Peter would try it out. Steve obviously had other plans.

"Come on, kid. Last stretch! You're doing great," Steve praised.

Peter didn't feel great. He felt like he was dying. Was this what dying felt like?

Amazingly, tonight Steve managed to convince Tony to let him out of the Tower for their workout, allowing Peter to get a much needed change of scenery. The fresh air and vague familiarity of the park from memories with Ned made him feel rejuvenated.

"Oh-my god," Peter huffed breathlessly, the sight of the clearing in the trees more beautiful than Peter remembered. He slowed to a stop, his shoes clapping loudly against the pavement. "What did I do to deserve your hatred? I thought we were friends."

"We are, Queens," Steve said cheerfully and frustratingly not gross or sweaty. The park was almost empty and the sun was just starting to set, the air was already much colder than it was when they started. The rose gold of the sky only made Steve look more ethereal, his skin glowing, and the shadows lining and accentuating each dip and line of his muscles. Peter tore his eyes away and held his side, trying to look interested at the sky as he fought to catch his breath and ease the pinch in his side. "That's why I'm training you."

"Training?" Peter asked, incredulous. He gestured to his tight, sweat covered track suit, glad he allowed Natasha to pick out his gear. He knew he would've looked even more disgusting in his grey gym clothes. "That's what you call this? No, sir. This—this is cruel and unusual punishment. I actually manage to land a hit one time-"

"Didn't count."

"-And now you are making me run until my legs fall off? Wait. What do you mean 'didn't count'?" Peter demanded, stopping on the sidewalk. Steve tossed Peter a smirk over his shoulder but continued walking, forcing Peter to jog to catch back up to him. Stupid gorgeous tree trunk legs.

"Let's spar again when we get back," Peter insisted. "Come on. I bet I can get you this time. Not that I didn't last time, but still."

"I thought you were exhausted?" Steve asked. "You could 'go on no longer'?"

"Yeah, well whose fault is that, Mr. You Run Til I'm Tired?" Peter countered.

Peter's tone was playful, not even slightly barbed, and Steve was reminded once again by how much he enjoyed being around Peter. It was just so easy. He bumped into Peter's shoulder, and felt his heart squeeze at the giant smile that stretched across his face.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it. It's only been a week. You'll appreciate all the cardio when you fight some of the bigger guys."

"I probably won't ever have to. We don't get a lot of that stuff in Queens. Not so far anyway."

Steve fell silent mulling over the wording for a few moments, listening to the crunch of under their feet, the rattling above from the leaves that refused to fall. It wasn't the first time Peter said something similar, the words just odd enough to catch his attention. There was a distinct line Peter seemed to draw that no amount of time with the Avengers seemed to be fading, like he couldn't imagine that living with them permanently was ever really an option. His brows pulled together, and the question burned on the end of his tongue, but then Peter was talking animatedly about his web shooters and he could only focus on his excited gestures.

Too soon, they were nearing the parking lot. It was like a flip of a switch, the moment concrete turned to pavement, Peter's steps seemed to slow, looking more like a man being escorted to death row than to a billionaire's tower.

"Not ready to go back?" Steve guessed, amused.

"Is it weird that I'd rather go on another run?"

Steve couldn't help but laugh at that, a musical sound that seemed much more in place surrounded by trees and green grass and flowers than it did it the sharp lines and dark greys and blacks of Stark Tower.

"How about we go back and we walk around the Tower then? Not patrol, just walk around and see what's close?"

"That actually sounds great," Peter admitted with a shiver. "After we grab jackets."

"Agreed. I'm not carrying you back to the Tower because you turned into a Peter Pop."

Peter groaned, punching Steve lightly on the arm. "You and Tony have been spending way too much time together."

They climbed into the car and headed back to the Tower, not even bothered when they ended up in traffic, too lost in conversation to care. Peter laughed particularly loud as Steve recounted his losing days.

"By the time Bucky realized I was gone and went searching, my nose was busted up and they were trying to kick my bones in. Bucky managed to pull them off but he was pissed. I never figured out if it was more at them or me."

"You fought two guys at once?" Peter cackled, hanging on every word that fell from Steve's mouth. Each little detail felt like a gift, something rare and special. They were in a way. Steve didn't seem to make a habit of opening the door to his past memories often, so when he did, Peter liked to think that Steve trusted him and maybe thought he was special too."But Bucky said you were even smaller than me."

"He's not wrong," Steve admitted with a soft laugh. He looked out over the road, a wistful look on his face. "Didn't matter to me though. Bucky always said he couldn't leave me alone for five minutes because he'd find me beaten and bloody in some back alley. That I'd fight a brick wall just to prove I could."

"Sounds like Bucky," Peter said as he leaned his head against the headrest. He rolled his head to look at Steve. "Sounds like you, too."

"Yeah, I honestly can't imagine what I would've done if I hadn't been able to get in the army."

"All the stories made it sound like you wouldn't have accepted an alternative."

Steve exhaled hotly, remembering how hard he'd tried to be accepted, how badly he wanted to be able to follow Bucky as he left to fight for his country and their allies. All of the different recruitment centers, every bold red DENIED stamp he'd stared at each night before bed, willing it to change before his eyes like magic. It was painful, being told time and time again he wasn't good enough. Yet, he'd do it all again if it yielded the same result.

"They're probably right," he admitted, sheepishly. "Nothing would have stopped me. I would have driven them crazy."

"Did you ever want to do anything else?" Peter asked, tapping absentmindedly on the console.

"No. Well, I've always loved art, but that wasn't exactly practical then. What about you? Always dream of being a superhero?"

Peter huffed, but his lip quirked up. "Is that what I am?"

"Yeah, Of course," Steve said, vehemently. "You even have your own vine. That's basically superhero initiation."

Peter rolled his eyes fondly, doing his best to look downtrodden. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted the Vine compilations.

"I'm serious though. I've seen what you can do. You're going to be a great superhero. Along with a couple other tag-lines."

"Like?"

"I don't know. Tony says he's a 'genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist' so what would that make you? The-"

"Genius, pauper, underage, vigilante?" Peter raised his eyebrow. "Doesn't quite have the same flow."

"You're a mess kid," Steve chuckled. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'brilliant, optimistic, amazing Spider-kid.'"

Peter scrunched up his nose as he looked out the window. As much as he liked that Steve seemed to like him, he didn't exactly deserve the compliments. "So how did you get into painting? Did they teach it at school?"

It was an obvious conversation change, but Peter wasn't ready to slip into self-loathing yet. Steve's brows pinched together, a little confused at the dismissal. He cleared his throat, remembering with a start that Peter was expecting an answer.

"Well, uhm. After I got diagnosed with asthma at six on top of everything else, my mom tried everything but tying me down to keep me in the house. It was only by luck that a friend of hers from the diner she worked at started making her own paints, gave my mom some as a gift."

Peter hesitated, but after a moment he spoke again, his curiously winning over courtesy. "What was she like? Your mom?"

Steve's eyes settled on the windshield, but they were distant, as if he were trying to see through it in hopes of finding his words past his reflection. "Wonderful. She was always busy, either at work or at home. She uhm...She sang constantly. It was bad," he huffed, mirthful, finally looking across at Peter again, streetlights casting half of his face in shadow. "Every morning she would open my door and sing me awake, loud and off-key, but I loved it all the same. She was kind, and- and she liked to dance."

Peter could picture a smaller Steve, dancing around the kitchen with his mother, and he smiled.

"She would be proud-you know. Of you. For everything. I didn't know her but-you just know."

Steve's mouth was dry and he had to swallow a few times before he could speak again. "What about your parents? Do you remember much about them?"

"No. Not-Not really. I just remember what May told me, and what I saw in pictures. I don't have those anymore though."

There was a pained pinch in Peter's brows, and before Steve knew what he was doing, his hand was resting the top of Peter's. Peter blinked at him with bright eyes, coffee and caramel against pale skin as they flitted around, searching Steve's face, his heart stuttering in his chest. Even in the dark he could make out every detail, see every speck in his perfectly blue eyes. He knew he should pull away from the warm comfort, that it would only be harder on him in the future, but it was like he suddenly couldn't control his body, a victim to gravity, his hand stuck firmly to the console.

"I'm sorry. I know how it feels to lose family. People say it goes away with time, but I can tell you that's not the case."

Peter nodded, a knot still in his throat. Steve gave him a small smile then reluctantly pulled his hand away, letting his fingers glide across Peter's skin, relishing in the brief contact before resting it back on the steering wheel

"Thanks for today," Peter said after a minute. "For getting me out of the Tower and stuff. I-uh. I really needed it."

Steve nodded, relieved that the tension was broken. "Anytime, Queens. Say the word."

By the time they made it back to the Tower, the weirdness between them had settled back to its usual level. Neither were really sure how to feel about that, but once they stepped out of the car, it was all forgotten. Peter groaned and nearly collapsed under his own weight. holding on to the back of his thighs.

"Whoa." Steve hurriedly moves to catch him by the arms, his eyes wide with concern. "You okay?"

"Peachy," Peter laughed stiffly, rubbing at the sore muscle. "I don't think I've ever ran that far at once. You know, I'm really starting to sympathize with Sam.."

"As you should," Bucky called from across the garage. "He runs like a toddler."

Peter and Steve both looked up as Bucky and Natasha walked out of the Tower, holding their jackets and two waters. Bucky's hair was down, and Natasha was holding a few files under her arm. Peter perked and waved over at them.

"Hey, guys! Those for us?"

"You're a genius, kid, anyone ever tell you that?"

Peter grinned. "Only all the time. Though I do recall you calling me stupid once or twice."

Bucky rolled his eyes, but Steve was pleased to see their was amusement there too. Steve wouldn't say that Bucky liked the kid yet, per se, but it was clear that despite whatever reservations he had about Peter, he found Peter funny and charming in his own strange way.

Bucky cringed at the dried sweat on Peter's shirt. "You look rough. Steve runnin' you ragged?"

Peter was a bit ashamed at how far into the gutter his mind went over the comment.

"Nah. You're actually just in time to watch me kick Steve's ass in sparring. Don't think I forgot, Brooklyn!"

"Never. I'd love to see you try," Steve replies, cockily.

"Is that how it's gunna go?" Natasha asked as they walked over, a disbelieving arch in her brow. "You look like you're barely standing."

"Heck yeah! I can take him." Peter's conviction faltered under Bucky and Natasha's almost palpable skepticism, and he raked his eyes over Steve's build stature again. "Probably. Well, maybe."

Bucky huffed out a laugh and Steve smiled fondly at Peter.

"Loving the confidence," he teased.

"Right." Bucky snorted. "Guess not everyone is blessed with your massive ego."

"Ego?" Steve echoed, offended.

"So what's with the drinks? I thought you two and Sam were checking in with a source?" Peter asked, relishing a little in the slight pout on Steve's face from being effectively ignored by the three of them.

"We were," Natasha said.

"Radio silence. We've checked in the last three days and got nothin'."

Steve and Bucky shared a quick look with Natasha, so fast most people probably wouldn't have been able to see it. It went without saying what usually happened to their informants if they stopped responding. Hydra didn't make a habit of leaving loose ends.

"Oh," Peter said, his voice sounding distant and unconcerned, turning his eyes to the Tower. "Back to square one then, huh?"

"Yeah, but we have a few more channels we can check. We aren't empty handed yet," Steve added as he gripped Peter's shoulder. Peter relaxed a little under his touch, and Steve brushed off Natasha's disapproving look. They knew it was a half-lie. They had exactly one more person they could reach out to, then they were on their own. If it came to that, they wouldn't know anything until Hydra made their next move.

"We were going to walk around a bit. You guys want to come with us?" Peter asked.

"I would, but I need to give some stuff to Tony," lifting the files from under her arm.

Bucky frowned at the name at the top, tensing slightly. "Tony still having a hard time with Ross?"

Natasha scoffed bitterly. "Aren't we always having a hard time with Ross? Walking asshat," she muttered.

Bucky side-eyed her. Asshat?

"Tony mentioned they are holding another summit," Steve recalled, his brows furrowed. "Is something wrong?"

When it came to issues with the Accords, it was agreed early on that the only people permitted to attend the actual summits were Pepper, Rhodes and Tony. The others were too likely to be provoked into a confrontation that could set them back in their progress.

Natasha kept her eyes trained on Steve. "Everything's fine. I'm about to have to run, but if you have any questions, you can come up and see me and Tony later."

Steve nodded and took the dismissal without argument, able to read between the lines of her order.

"What about you, Bucky?" Peter asked, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on. "Want to come?"

"No, working out once a day is torture enough for me. I'll be there in the morning. I was just comin' to tell Steve I'd be in late. I'm going out with Sam again."

Steve was surprised when Bucky told him he wanted to continue on with therapy, but in a good way. He knew Bucky had a hard time coming to terms with everything that happened to him, and as a result, because of him. Even if Steve wished Bucky could open up about it to him, he found comfort knowing he was finally talking to somebody.

"Oh okay. I guess we will see you tomorrow! You guys have fun."

Natasha and Bucky waved good bye to the two boys, then went back inside, the warm air welcome against their chilled skin. Natasha waited until they were stuck in the elevator before she glanced at Bucky, smirking.

"So I saw you with Sam this morning," Natasha probed, looking at their reflection in the mirror in the corner of the elevator. "Any reason you and Steve weren't working out together?"

Bucky looked unfazed, watching the number above the elevator climb as he shook his head. "We decided to start waitin' for Peter to do our morning workouts. No point in making' Steve do everything twice."

Natasha hummed conspiratorially. "You two seem to be getting along better."

"Me an' Steve?" Bucky huffed. "We were only mad a few days. You and Sam sound just alike. In fact, if I didn't know better I'd think you guys were talking about us."

Bucky gave her a knowing look, and the elevator doors opened. Bucky stepped past her and Natasha rolled her eyes.

"You wouldn't be wrong, but I meant you and Peter."

"Oh."

Peter Parker. Bucky wasn't sure how he felt about him. His file from what he remembered was a little sad but unremarkable as far as records go, only one mention of a fight happening when he was in elementary school. From YouTube and the media, people seemed to have a mixed response to his masked persona, despite anyone who had contact with him being adamantly approving.

On a first hand basis, he knew the kid talked too much and made lots of dorky science jokes. It was weirdly endearing. He was like a mix of Clint and Tony, if he had to compare him to anybody, which sounds like Peter would equate to an overgrown toddler with daddy issues and a knack for snark and violence, but the blend came out a lot better than what would be expected.

"Yeah. Oh," she teased.

"I thought you were supposed to be botherin' Stark."

"I'm grabbing food first. Now explain."

"What do you want me to say Nat? 'Can we keep him?' Steve gets along with him and so I figured I should, too."

"Exactly. I find that interesting."

"Why?"

"Well, for one you don't trust him."

"Do you?"

Natasha leaned against the door way, crossing her ankles as Bucky plopped down on the couch.

"Yes," she answered easily. Bucky's eyes pierced into hers, waiting. It seemed they would stay like that for hours if someone didn't budge, and Natasha had things to do. She relented, but didn't look happy about it. "Fine. I want to. He's a great kid. I don't know what I'd do if I found out I was wrong about him."

"Tony would lose his shit," Bucky agreed, hands folded over his chest as he stared at the ceiling. "For two?"

"You said you want to get along with Peter for Steve. It's just an odd way to phrase it, that's all."

"Yeah, well. Having Steve mad at me doesn't do anyone any favors."

"Since you brought it up, what's with you and Steve? Or I suppose I should say what was with you and Steve, since you apparently are on good terms again."

Bucky leaned his head forward to glower at her. "You're interrupting my potential nap to gossip? What're you 12?"

"Shut up. What did you even do when you were 12, play with rocks?"

"You can play with my rocks," he winked. Natasha smacked his leg, but she knew the comment wasn't serious. Bucky had a tendency to try to flirt his way out of situations. From what she read from the Howling Commandos journals, it tended to work.

"Come on. Talk," She said.

"Or what?" He breathed, looking over at her through dark lashes.

Natasha was having none of it. "Or I'll tell Clint you're the one ate all of his leftover pizza."

Bucky gave her a measured look, then shook his head. "No. You wouldn't."

"Try me," she dared.

Bucky sighed. "Fine. I don't know. We are good. I guess I just worry about how close he's getting to the kid."

"Why?"

Bucky could feel his patience draining away. "What do you mean why? You know why."

"Because of Hydra."

"Yeah. I know how deep they can get in your head. I'm not willing to risk anybody's safety on the off chance the kid really has nothing to do with hydra."

Natasha picked at a stray string on the cuff of her sweater. "So it has nothing to do with the way Peter looks at him?"

Bucky's eyes shot up to meet Nat's, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "You see it too?"

Natasha looked mildly offended by the question. "Of course I do. What good would I be if I didn't? It doesn't bother me, though. I actually find it kind of cute."

Bucky snorted, his face mildly contorted. "Cute. Right."

Natasha opened her mouth, then closed it again, brows pulling together in hesitation.

"Maybe you should think about why it bothers you."

Bucky tensed, then sat up, swinging his feet onto the floor. Natasha looked unperturbed, as if she'd been expecting his reaction.

"What are you insinuating, Nat?"

She shrugged. "I'm just saying. If Peter is innocent in all this and they become close, will it bother you?"

"Steve is my best friend. It might bother me a little, but that's normal."

"I'm close with Steve," Natasha pointed out. "So is Sam. We both think it's nice Steve is hanging around someone new. Never hurts to have more friends."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her. "Cut it, Nat. You know why I don't like this."

She raised a brow at him.

"Don't act like you don't see it. You and I both know that Peter has more than friendship on his mind. The others may not but we do. Tell me I'm wrong."

Natasha gave him a small smile. "I can't, but I can say it doesn't bother me as long as it doesn't bother Steve. So why does it bother you?"

Bucky shook his head. "You wouldn't understand. He's like my brother."

Natasha patted Bucky's shoulder consolingly, wishing she could tell Bucky what she thought about their deep friendship, but if Bucky wasn't ready to accept it, nothing she could say would make things better.

"I should go. I hope therapy goes well. Dinner tomorrow, yeah?"

Bucky sighed, but nodded. "Yeah. Get back to lover boy. God knows he'd starve without you."

*******  
Tony pulled on a fresh pair of jeans, his hair and body still damp from his shower. He wasn't sure if the smell of expensive shampoo ever smelled so good, a freshly groomed beard so oddly invigorating. He felt more human than he had in days thanks to Natasha practically forcing him to spend a few hours away from the lab. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed how much he let himself go the last week, but it was hard to walk away knowing there were things waiting for him at the end of the project. He could finally get back to the lab with Peter and dinners with the him and Nat. Peter had yet to complain but the kid didn't need to. Tony missed spending time with the two of them as badly as he did. Unfortunately, rushing to get done also meant letting Natasha see the insufferable, cranky, coffee powered version of him that Pepper despised so much.

It honestly surprised him how much different the two women were, despite having so much in common. Pepper was amazing, but he knew from the moment Pepper and Rhodey sat him down to explain their growing feelings for each other that they fit together in a way that she and Tony never would. They just made sense. She was still one of his best friends and he trusted her with everything just as much as he did the day he signed over the company, but maybe that was the problem. He always relied on her too much. She acted more like a mother, or even a big sister to him than a parter. She was orderly and fiery where he was chaos and snark. They were great as friends and even helped each other grow, but they would never fit together right. He was too jagged, too broken.

Natasha was unlike anyone Tony's ever known. She didn't get mad at Tony's stubbornness like Pepper or his father, because she was the same kind of stubborn. She spent more time the last week bringing him meals and his horrid smoothies than she spent in her own room. When she couldn't make Tony go to sleep, she would stay up with him, putting a movie up on the projector or reading Oscorp files. Tony would find it sweet if it wasn't so damn terrifying.

Breath stifling steam from the shower poured into his room as he opened the bathroom door, and his lips parted in surprise when he found Natasha slowly walking the length of his shelves, taking in each piece with vested interest. She peeked over her shoulder, carefully raking her eyes over Tony's bare chest before giving him a smirk.

"I guess I should have knocked," she mused. "Can't say I'm regretting my decision though."

Tony's eyes widened and he waited, half-expecting Natasha to say "just kidding" or something along those lines, but instead she gave him a bright smile, obviously amused by his reaction, and politely averted her eyes again. Natasha was beautiful as always, maybe even more so from the slight blush of her cheeks, but there was something odd about seeing her amongst his things, like she was displaced or photoshopped in. It was like his brain couldn't fathom her presence in a space that was tied to feelings of loneliness and nightmares.

Tony pulled his shirt on, thankful she was giving him the chance to save face.

"Who knew I could look decent after a shower, right?" He joked, half-hearted due to his nerves. He turned, noticing the files peeking out from under her arm. "What are those? Something happen?"

Natasha looked over her shoulder again, only slightly disappointed that he'd managed to dress up instead of dress down. Even still, she couldn't deny that he looked great. Not even because of the fresh shave or clean clothes. His hair was untidy and wet, making him look boyish. It reminded her once again of just how similar he and Peter were. She had no doubts that he could pull off being his father. Not that they all didn't already see him as such.

"If you mean some kind of deadly new enemy taking the field no," Natasha said, taking a seat at the end of Tony's bed. "You are going to be late for your investigative dinner for two though."

Natasha reached over the side of the bed held up a bag full of stuff she prepared in the kitchen and Tony scooched in close to her, pretending to peek inside so he had an excuse to breathe in the light scent of fresh strawberries and red wine of her skin.

"Wouldn't that be a tragedy of epic proportions," Tony mused into her hair, taking the bag from her hand with one hand, and using the other to fill hers back up. Natasha looked down at their intertwined fingers, unable to fight the elation in her chest. "Can't have that."

******

Steve's pencil tapped against the edge of the sketch pad, his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes lingered, unfocused, on the half-drawn sketch in front of him. There were vague, lightly drawn lines accenting soft curls and wide eyes, but he couldn't get the angles of his face right. His brows furrowed in mild frustration, biting the inside corner of his lip.

He glanced up at the hallway to Peter's room, wishing he could muster up the courage to go an knock instead of pathetically hanging around the Communal Floor. After JARVIS informed Steve and Bucky Peter wouldn't be joining them for their workout, Steve felt strange. He'd spent more time with Peter the last week than he ever had, yet for some reason he couldn't get him out of his head.

Steve, who's fought too many battles to count, suddenly found himself anticipating neighborhood patrol nights. He was enamored by the selfless pride Peter exuded at helping others and he couldn't stop thinking of how bright his eyes were on their way up the elevator as he recounted the events of the night, hands waving animatedly. Steve smiled softly to himself, remembering how happy he looked as he waved goodbye to the EMT's, whom he befriended as easily as breathing within the brief time they spent aiding the car accident victim together.

Steve didn't realize it until that night, but he almost forgot how it felt to be just one of the little guys. Somewhere alone the line, as he was trying to aid the world as a whole, he had lost perspective. The fact that Peter managed to hold on to that appreciation for life even after inheriting his superpowers was something Steve admired.

If he was honest, it was oddly comforting to be around someone that reminded him of himself from before the serum. Most of the memories Steve had from the past were sharp and painful to think about, but it seemed Peter softened them, bringing a warmth to nostalgia that chased away the cold.

Steve's eyes shot up as the elevator doors opened and shut. He was surprised at the small burn of disappointment when Sam and Bucky walked into to the living room. Sam went straight to his usual spot on the love seat and Bucky collapsed on the couch beside Steve with a groan, throwing his feet into Steve's lap. Steve huffed and shut the book, putting it beside him. "Hey to you, too."

"Nat is evil, Steve. We need to take her out."

"Oh really?" Steve asked, trying to hide the quirk of his lips. "Why is that?"

"He's being a drama queen," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "You're making this seem way worse than what it is."

"I'm a drama queen? You literally have wings."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sam asked, defensively. He tossed his half-empty water bottle at Bucky's head, but Bucky swatted it away easily, sending it flying across the coffee table before it slid off and into the corner of the room.

"How are you even a superhero?"

Sam shot him a glare, opening his mouth to retort, but Steve held up a hand.

"Okay, getting a little off track here. What did you do to induce Nat's wrath this time?" Steve asked.

"Why do you assume I did somethin?" Bucky said, indignant, lifting his head from where it lay on the arm of the couch.

"Did you?"

"No, Stevie. I haven't even seen her today." Bucky dropped his head back down, crossing his arms. "Did you not check your phone?"

"No. Why? What's going on?"

"Apparently Natasha's crush on Tony means we have to have a movie night together," Sam said. "It's about time if you ask me."

"Good thing we didn't," Bucky retorted with a tight fake smile. Sam was starting to miss when Bucky was quiet and broody. But only a little.

Steve lifted his phone and sure enough he had an unread message.

(From: Natasha To: You, Barton, Bruce, Buck, Sam, Stark, Rhodes, and 124-457-7810)  
Mandatory team movie night tonight.

"I don't know why you care so much anyway. You and Tony have been acting fine together," Sam said."

Bucky rolled his eyes, but as the words settled, he realized that there may been have some truth to them. Between having to sit in with Tony and Rhodes as they went over the possible Hydra locations he and Steve got from their European source, RetroDame, and giving some insight with the concealment device, they'd been spending quite a bit more time together.

"It's just weird," Bucky said, lamely.

Sam's eyes narrowed suspiciously at Bucky, but he managed to shrug it off. The dynamic change was hard on everyone, and building it back was going to take time. Lucky for them, Natasha was giving them that. Or forcing it on them, anyway. "Maybe, but I think it'll be good for everyone. Like the good old days, right Steve?"

Sam was looking to him expectantly, and Steve found himself nodding. "Maybe. I mean-It couldn't hurt."

Bucky groaned. "Steve Rogers, everyone. Eternal optimist and pain in my ass."

"Jerk."

"Punk. Hand me the remote, will ya?"

****

Around 11, Natasha, Tony, Clint and Bruce made their way to the communal floor. They all looked tired, even Clint, but after the last few days of working Steve wasn't surprised.

"Hey guys," Steve greeted amicably. His words sounded stiffer than he liked, even to his own ears. This wouldn't be the first time they'd all been together, and he knew that, but there was a lingering air of expectation that made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Don't talk. Need coffee." Clint passed them and made a beeline for the kitchen.

"You guys are here early," Natasha said, sounding pleased.

"Some brat insisted we show for a movie."

Natasha grinned and pulled Bucky into a firm hug. "Good to know you're learning how to listen."

"I wouldn't hold your breath on that one," Sam muttered.

"Noted," Natasha said, pulling away from Bucky to hug Sam. She looked at Steve, then around the living room.

"Where's Peter?" She asked. "He still sleeping?"

When Steve realized everyone was looking to him, he startled slightly. Had they been spending that much time together? "Oh. I don't know. I haven't seen him today."

Tony frowned, turning to Natasha. "He hasn't been down?"

"Don't look at me, I've been with you for the last 36 hours," Natasha reminded him. "JARVIS, where did my паучок run off to?"

"Peter is still in the lab working on his project. Would you like me to ask him to come down?"

"His art project?" Tony asked, brows furrowed.

"Yes, sir."

Tony glanced uncertainly at Natasha to find her lips twisted softly to the side. They both thinking the same thing. They were keeping tabs on Peter from the lab, making sure he was staying busy, but they were both under the impression Steve was with him. That meant that Peter watched a movie the night before, ate breakfast, did his morning training, then worked in his project, all alone.

Their eyes bored into each other as they had their own silent conversation. Tony gave her an almost imperceptible nod, then turned his attention back to Steve. "Want to go upstairs and tell him we are about to start?"

"To your lab?" Steve asked.

"No, to China. Yes, my lab. Keep up, Rogers. You're less likable when you're slow."

Natasha gave him a harsh look, but he crossed his arms, pretending not to see it.

"Go. I'll order your food," Bucky said, hitting him lightly on the head with the weathered paperback in his hand. "Better be quick, though. If you aren't back before the food's here, I'm eating it."

Steve smiled in gratitude, then made his way up to the lab.

Peter should have known that having a good day yesterday would mean that his night would be terrible. Every time he managed to fall asleep, his mind was filled with creatures of black sand, shadows filling his room like water, spilling from the walls and into his lungs. His family getting sucked into the floor like quicksand, one at a time, blood stamped circles left in their stead. Tony screaming from a distance, too far to save, but too close to block out the sound, no matter how hard he pressed against his ears.

The images didn't fade with the sunlight like they usually did. They seemed to be imprinted on his pupils like the flash of a camera, leaving him feeling disoriented. It was harder to pretend to be okay like this, harder to be around the others. Maybe it was mentioning his parents to Steve, or just talking about the past in general, but something got dug up that made Peter want to escape, and there was only one option in the Tower that would allow that to happen.

Peter was sitting in what Steve had started (Mentally) calling the spider-pose on one of Stark's stools, focused intently on the pieces of metal he was welding together, his tongue between his teeth in concentration. He inspected it, rolling it over in his hand. He brushed at a small speck, blowing on in before turning it over again. Seemingly pleased, he pushed on the table and rolled backwards to the table behind him. He scrunched his nose in thought, turning his head up to the ceiling.

"JARVIS, time remaining on those models?"

"Approximately 15 minutes."

Peter nodded as he added the piece he was working on to a small pile of similarly shaped pieces and quickly jotted down a note before picking up the next two cuts of metal. There was a small thwip sound, then Peter pulled himself back to his spot, and began welding again.

"Cool. Thanks, buddy. Can you see if DUM-E will start the next batch for me when they are done? Tell him I'll let him clean my desk if he does."

DUM-E's weird fascination with cleaning Peter's workspace was a mystery to everyone, including Tony, although he secretly suspected it was because his robot wanted to show he cared for Peter in some way. It was as funny as it was adorable. Honestly, Peter wouldn't mind letting the little guy help out, but he tended to throw important papers away. Very important papers. Which is why Tony made fun of Peter for an hour after he recruited Steve Rogers to go digging in the trash cans for his ratio sheet.

Steve was equal parts amused and pleased that Peter asked for his help instead of the others', and between the two of them they managed to find it pretty quickly. It was embarrassing on Peters part, but he learned his lesson and kept everything he didn't need trashed in a folder.

"Oh, and also go ahead and order those magnets I was looking at, please."

"Of course, Peter. I will relay the message and have them ordered immediately."

Steve couldn't pull his eyes away as he watched Peter wrapped up in his work, surrounded by tools and scrap, chestnut hair untamed and sticking out all over his head. He seemed serious, more in control, maybe even a bit older as he focused on putting his project together. As much as he wished he could continue to watch, he did come up for a reason. He knocked on the end of the table, making Peter's eyes shoot up.

Steve's heart melted a little at the way Peter's face lit up, grinning at him with his usual crooked smile.

"Steve, hey."

"Am I interrupting?"

"No, I-uh," Peter quickly dropped what he was working on and looked over everything, taking a deep breath. "I'm just, you know. Working. But it's not a big deal, it can wait. What's up?"

"I just thought I'd check on you."

"Oh. Why?" Was he being too obvious about not wanting to be around anyone? "Wait, it's not time to patrol already is it?"

Steve quirked an amused eyebrow.

"Peter, it's 11:30."

His eyes widened, looking disheartened. "No. Seriously? I missed patrol? I'm so sorry. I must've lost track of time."

"What? No," Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "It's 11:30 AM. I was coming to grab you. Natasha said everyone is required to eat lunch and watch a movie together."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah, I think Rhodey and Pepper are even stopping by."

"Oh," Peter said again, looking slightly confused. "That's actually kind of awesome."

"Yeah. I guess it it," Steve mused. He realized he was staring a bit too long when Peter tilted his head in question. Steve cleared his throat. "So what's all this? I heard you fell down a rabbit hole."

"A bit, yeah. I'm finally making some progress."

"Need some help finding your way out?" Steve raised a brow at him.

"Rabbit holes are tricky," Peter said, pretending to weigh his options. "I could be convinced. What did you have in mind?"

"Honestly I didn't think I'd get this far," Steve replied, tilting his head playfully. "I figured you'd say you didn't need me."

"To Captain America? Never."

"Well, we have plenty of time to think about it. Apparently the others are finishing up on the device tomorrow then prepping to leave for the Accords meeting the day after, so it'll just be me, you, Clint and Buck for the next few days. Natasha decided to go with Tony as backup."

Peter rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Right. Backup."

Steve took the seat across from Peter, noticing for the first time the darkened bruise like skin under his eyes. He frowned.

"Still not sleeping well?"

Peter shrugged. He knew there was no point in lying to Steve. He didn't really want to.

"Last night was bad, but overall it's getting better. I just feel restless, you know? Like I need to be doing something."

"You're running yourself into the ground," Steve argued. "You worked out with me twice yesterday, Natasha once, then you've been up here all day. You need to give yourself a break."

"Yeah, well. Since Steven isn't answering my emails, I have a feeling I'm going to have to do the project and the paper on my own."

Peter could hear the frustration leaking into his voice. He tried to message Steven, explaining that he wouldn't be back to school for a while and what Peter thought he should do the research over, but that was almost a week ago and Peter had already given up any hope of Steven replying.

"It's probably best that way. Nobody could pull off building something as well as you could. It would just diminish the quality," Steve teased, ruffling Peter's hair. Peter scowled, flattening it back down as Steve smirked. It slowly fell, a small pit in his stomach as he was reminded why Peter was stuck here in the first place. He pressed his lips together, but his tongue and his teeth conspired against him, letting the words form despite his reluctance. "You probably shouldn't message him anymore."

"What? Why? It's not like he is going to break into the Tower."

"I'm sure I could help you sneak away," Steven crooned. Peter blinked the memory away with a wince.

"Still. I don't like the way you said he was talking to you."

Peter's laugh came out nervous and forced. "Don't worry. It's nothing I couldn't handle."

"But you shouldn't have to. I don't want you to get hurt. Ever."

The pure sincerity in his voice gave Peter pause. He was unsure how to interpret it, so Peter did what Peter did best: deflect. "I won't. I've got some pretty awesome trainers. And a guardian that thinks I'm a fairy tail princess."

Steve face stretched into a slow smile, and he shrugged. "The guy trainer is pretty great."

"The best. Have you seen his muscles? I bet they make Thor cry."

Peter bumped into Steve and they were both laughing. Peter's eyes lingered on Steve's flushed face, then sighed, pushing his papers back on the table.

"I guess we should head down."

"Yeah. Bucky threatened to eat my food."

"Of course he did."

****

Clint was already sprawled out with a pallet of pillows and blankets on the floor when the others walked into the living room with their food, and Sam quickly joined him, pressing his back up against the coffee table.

"You are really going to lay on the hard floor when there are couches more expensive than most peoples cars to sit on?" Natasha asked the two of them.

"Hey. It's comfortable."

"It's dumb."

Clint huffed, face twisted in obvious offense. "Rude, Natasha. Don't even try to ask to join us when you guys are stiff from having to sit up the whole movie," Clint sing-songed. "Now give me my popcorn, buzzkillington."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but acquiesced, a few pieces dropping as she passed over Sam's ducked head.

"It does make sense. Blankets are vital to movie time," Sam agreed.

The others didn't seem inclined to agree. Rhodey and Pepper claimed the love seat and Pepper helped him take off his bot legs to make them more comfortable before settling in. He leaned up against the arm, and Pepper laid between his legs with her back against his chest as Rhodey combed through her hair. Bruce, and Tony sat on the center couch, Natasha curling in beside Tony after handing him a glass of wine. Tony covered the three of them in a thick red blanket, and they sunk back, looking as if the cushions were sucking them inside. Happy sat in the recliner, leaving Peter, Steve and Bucky to take the last couch.

"You can use a blanket without throwing your back out in the floor," Happy pointed out. Clint worked on readjusting his hearing aids as Tony reached for the remote to give to Rhodey.

"True. We are too old for that," Tony agreed. "Not as odd as Barnes and Nobel, but I digress."

Peter could practically hear Steve's eyes rolling in his head and Clint snorted loudly, earning him a kick in the head from Bucky's boot.

"Okay children," Natasha droned with a small smile.

"He kicked me!" Clint said, affronted.

Tony ignored him. "JARVIS, lights. Please and thank you."

"I hate it here."

The lights cut off and Rhodey clicked on Harry Potter and the Sorcerers' Stone.

"Oh. This is the Griffin movie," Steve murmured, nudging Peter excitedly.

Peter laughed. "Griffindor, yeah. You're the king of that house."

"And Clint Hufflepuff, Yeah. I remember," Steve nodded. He suddenly felt nervous, ready to see for himself what Peter was talking about. He didn't think Peter would say anything bad about him, but felt nervous all the same.

Clint shot Peter a glare, but he just smiled back, unaffected. "Exactly."

"Are you guys going to talk the whole movie?" Tony groaned. "God knows Steve is bad enough by himself."

"I'm not that bad! I just have questions."

"A million questions. And comments. And thoughts."

Rhodey scoffed, putting the remote down, the cursor hovering over the play button. "Anybody else miss when these knuckle heads were divorced?"

"What-" Tony and Steve said together, scowling. Tony sighed heavily and extended a hand as if to say, "you go."

Steve shifted in his seat, and moved his glare from Tony to Rhodey. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Tony was suddenly glad they both stopped. It would have been really weird if they would've said the whole sentence together.

"It means that now that you aren't avoiding each other like the plague, you're back to bickering like an old married couple," Nat teased, popping a grape in her mouth and leaning against Tony to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows. Tony smiled goofily, the jab forgotten, and Peter grinned at the two of them fondly, only turning away because Tony shot him a quick warning glare.

They really were too cute. If only they'd stop tiptoeing around each other.

"That—is a really weird thought," Peter thought to himself. Imagining Steve together with anyone but Bucky was weird, but honestly, he could see Steve with Tony, too. The constant bickering, the blue and red personalities, the strange way they seemed to check on each other without even wanting to...Peter scrunched up his nose. Why could he picture Steve with everyone but him?

When the commercials started, everyone quieted down. Since half the room didn't make a habit out of watching movies, they all agreed years ago to always watch the previews so they could find movies that looked interesting. With the room dark and quiet, Peter could feel the warm hum of exhaustion buzzing beneath his skin.

"You know, if you guys were married, that would make Peter your love child," Clint said, suddenly. Steve almost spit out his water, instead choking on it. Bucky slapped his back, but shot Clint a conspiratorial wink behind his back.

Peter was mortified. His jaw dropped and he sputtered incoherently. "No! What? That's-but-Steve isn't my dad!"

Everyone broke into laughter. Even Bucky's stoicism lifted, his deep laugh mingling together beautifully with everyone else's. Steve brightened at the sound, watching the subtle shake in the man's shoulders, but rolled his eyes at the groups childishness.

Peter's face was flushed and his lips tightened into a line, making his cheeks puff. "You guys are mean."

"I could see the Stark thing, though, Queens," Steve whispered.

Peter shrugged, welling with a bit of pride. "I mean, he is my guardian, right?"

"Ha. Peter thinks your his dad," Rhodey cackled, slapping an hand on Tony's shoulder from across the arm of the couch. Tony mimicked Peter' shrug, crossing his arms, his lip quirked into a smug smile.

"Come on, it's cute," Pepper said. "I think it's cute that you look up to Tony."

"Still," Happy said. "It's a little weird to picture."

"I already told everyone he was my kid," he said, nonchalantly, as if the admission wasn't world altering. Peter looked up to find Tony smirking at him. "I mean he's a genius. Obviously gets it from me."

Bruce patted Tony on the back, a sad smile on his face. "Obviously. The snark, too"

"And his recklessness," Natasha added. Peter shrunk a little in his seat, earning him a curious look from Steve.

"Reckless is a little harsh," Peter said carefully.

"What did he do this time?" Steve asked.

Peter frowned. "You act like I do stuff all the time."

"I've patrolled with you twice and the first time you almost cut two of your fingers off on that guy's car door and the second your web shooter jammed. I thought for sure I was going to be scraping you off the pavement."

"Your web shooter jammed?" Tony asked, horrified. Add that to the nightmare bank.

Peter waved it off. "It just gets sticky sometimes. I caught myself."

"At least he didn't get smart with a gunman with you," Natasha said to Steve. "I'm pretty sure his exact words were, 'You're the reason they put the 'Do Not Eat' labels on toothpaste, huh?'"

Tony ran a hand down his face as the others sniggered. "Okay. That's it. You're grounded."

Peter laughed and the group settled back down. About fifteen minutes in, Peter could tell Steve was bursting with questions. His brows would pull together, frowning, and shift around until the movie caught his interest again, breaking the thought tangent his mind pulled him through.

Bucky seemed to notice too, patting Steve's legs twice before pulling them into his lap. Peter couldn't tell you what was happening in the movie at all, too busy watching Steve's reactions. He suddenly fell serious when hearing of Voldemort for the first time, scowled at Draco's superiority complex, eyes sparkling with awe when they entered the food hall.

Peter hadn't realized until then, but Steve had been slowly slipping backward towards him since Bucky put his feet in his lap, and was now practically leaning on him, similar to how Pepper was on Rhodey. Steve seemed to realize at the same time Peter did.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, putting his hands down to adjust himself, but Peter quickly wrapped his arms around Steve's chest and pulled him back. They both froze stiff and Peter grimaced, flushing at his sudden boldness. He dropped his hands back down.

"You-you were comfortable right?" Peter whispered in Steve's ear, warm breath bursting over his cool skin. His lips parted in surprise, a low shuttering breath escaping. He hesitated for a moment before nodding against Peter's chest. "Then you can stay. It-uh. It doesn't bother me, okay?"

"Your sure?" Steve whispered back.

Peter rolled his eyes playfully and opened his arms. "The pleasure of being your pillow is all mine."

Steve snorted quietly but leaned back in regardless. It took a few minutes for him to relax again, his mind too filled with confusing thoughts to pay attention to the movie, but he eventually settled and Peter seemed to follow suit shortly after. His arms never wrapped around him again, but they stayed settle on either side of him, keeping them both comfortably warm.

"Who the hell is snoring?" Clint asked suddenly about 20 minutes later.

Everybody looked around, and sure enough, Peter was snoozing soundly, his head hanging on his chest. Steve flushed at the sudden attention to their seating situation, but nobody seemed phased.

"God, even when he's asleep he makes noise," Happy lamented.

"Should we move him?" Natasha asked.

"That looks uncomfortable. Can't be good for his neck," Bucky said.

"Or his throat," Clint muttered.

"Let's just let him sleep," Tony said, his eyes soft. "Kid deserves a break. Let him get it in while his brain lets him."

Seemingly in agreement, they all turned back to the movie, but Steve's mind drifted. First to Bruce and Loki and how everyone accepted their relationship so easily, then how everyone seemed to be doing the same with Tony and Natasha. He wondered if he loved someone, or in the very least wanted to bring someone like that into his life if they would do the same for him.

Bucky patted his legs again, tilting his head in concern. His eyes were almost glowing in the dark, the steel grey flashing like a cat's. Steve gave him a reassuring smile, and forced himself to focus on the reality of the here and now, unsure what the future could bring.

****

Peter woke up alone on the couch, one of Clint's blankets tucked tightly around him, his body surprisingly relaxed. He yawned, his joints popping as he stretched. He was a little dazed, unable to recall at what point he fell asleep.

"Hey there sleepyhead," Natasha crooned from the kitchen. Peter poked his head up and found her nursing a coffee at the bar.

"Hey," Peter croaked, his throat dry from snoring. "What time is it?"

Natasha shrugged. "JARVIS?"

"It is currently 10:32 PM."

"Dang. I slept a lot. Thanks, JARVIS," Peter said, pushing himself off the couch with another deep yawn. He fluffed out his hair where it was flat on one side. "Have anymore of that?"

Natasha pushed over the half-filled coffee pot and Peter poured himself a mug. He stared at the steam, the unpleasant memories of his nightmares from the night before resurfacing.

"You up for patrol tonight?" Natasha asked.

"Really? Uh, Yeah, sure. Always," Peter said. "That sounds awesome."

"Dress warm, put your suit underneath. No need in freezing to death if it's a quiet night." Natasha picked up her cup, holding it up at him. "Meet you back here in 10. Don't forget Goggles, Tony will have a heart attack."

Peter knew there was an ulterior motive to going out as soon as Natasha decided not to take the Stingray. They made their way up to the roof, Natasha taking a seat on the cement platform as she sat up the police scanner. He could only imagine what she wanted to talk about, the weight of Goggles in his pocket both a comfort and a reminder of all the lies he was keeping from her.

"Stop pacing, паучок."

Peter's eyes shot up.

"What? Oh. Okay. Sorry." Peter stopped, then fidgeted again in the silence. "So are we really patrolling? Or..?"

Natasha stood up, her face tight. "Steve, Bucky Clint and Sam are leaving."

Peter quirked his head to the side. "What? Why?"

"They heard back from one of their informants in Austria. It was someone we thought was out of commission, but apparently they're back and whatever they found out was too dangerous to risk communicating with us remotely."

"What changed?" Peter asked, crossing his arms.

"They found somewhere safe. They said they lost Hydra for now, but they don't trust their hiding place enough to stay still for long."

"So, what? They can't just send it?" Peter asked.

"They said it's not safe."

Peter scowled at the ground. "Do you even know if it's safe for them? That sounds super sketchy and if something happens, we'd be too far to help. They could be walking right into a trap without backup."

Natasha nodded, stone faced. "They could. But this is also the only lead we've gotten in weeks."

Peter shook his head. "I don't like it."

"None of us do."

Peter huffed, rocking back on his heels and falling gracefully to sit on the pavement. "This sucks."

"Because you won't get to see Steve?" Natasha smirked.

"Well, sending him off to possibly get captured isn't on my top favorites list," Peter shot back.

"Sorry. I know it's not the best time to joke. I'm just surprised you two are getting along so well."

"What? Why?"

"For one, you're awkward, паучок. I never thought you'd get past the brainless part of your crush."

"Awkward? I'm not awkward," Peter squawked. "And brainless? That's just-that's just rude."

Natasha didn't even blink, just stared at him with a blank face.

"Okay fine. I was a little brainless at first. Maybe a tad bit awkward. Whatever. Still doesn't make sense why we wouldn't end up as friends. Steve's Mr. Confidence and Perfect Jawline. He could make friends with a punching bag."

Natasha huffed out a laugh. "Pretty sure he already has, but what does his jawline have to do with anything?"

Peter gave her a look. "His jawline is everything."

"Does he know you spew sonnets about his facial structure?"

Peter's face pinched at the thought. "Absolutely not, and I'm not telling him. I would sooner drink bleach."

Natasha rolled her eyes. What was with this generation and talking about offing themselves?

"So you aren't serious, then?"

Peter looked at her questioningly. Was she—was she expecting him to drink bleach?

"Since you don't want to tell him how you feel," she explained. "You aren't serious about him. How you feel-it's not anything you want to go further."

"What? No. I mean-it is. I like him a lot."Peter flushed, tucking his face into his bent albos to hide his face. That was the first time he admitted it out loud to anyone but Ned.

"Then what's the problem? Why don't you just tell him?"

Peter gave her an impatient look, then rolled his eyes when she continued to look confused. "Stop doing your assassin interrogation thing. You know what the problem is."

"Do I?"

Peter glared at her, then relented with a sigh.

"Just because you and Tony finally stopped dancing around each other doesn't mean Steve is magically going to like me, Nat. That's the thing about dating, the feelings have to be reciprocated."

"From where I'm standing you both look sickeningly smitten."

"Yeah. Right."

"I'm serious."

"Okay, look. I see the way he looks at Bucky, and I see the way he looks at me. There's no way I could ever compete with him."

"They've been best friends for years."

"We both know that's not it."

Natasha has to give him that. She hadn't even considered that Steve was pining after Bucky until Peter came into the picture, but now that she knew Steve was attracted to both men and women, she wondered how she managed to miss it.

"We both know that even if you're right, they would never work."

"I am right and how do you know? Bucky loves him too."

Natasha paused at that. She hadn't expected Peter to notice. If not for her conversation with Bucky the day before, she may have relented, but knowing how far in denial Bucky was, she couldn't let it go.

"You can't know that."

"I do. I see it. Bucky may not be ready to say it, but he loves Steve. All the casual touches, the way he looks at Steve when he isn't paying attention. You can't hide love like that, and you can't fake it either."

Natasha frowned.

"So Steve is supposed to wait around for Bucky to realize that? That's fair?"

"No. I don't know," Peter scowled at nothing, kicking a rock away from him. "I don't know, okay? But if Bucky loves Steve, how am I supposed to come between them when I know Steve loves him too? He's my friend."

"You make him smile."

Peter felt an ache in his chest. Steve made him smile too, probably more than he ever imagined anyone would be able to, but how long could Peter keep Steve happy? "I can't be be what Bucky is to him. Steve deserves to be happy.."

Natasha looked away, shaking her head. Just like Tony. Loving but completely dense.

"Maybe you can't be to him what Bucky is, but you'd be blind not to notice that Steve cares about you too. He opens up more and more every day, and smiles not just at jokes and snark but because he's happy. He's happy because he has you."

Peter chewed on the thought, his chest swelling with unwelcome hope. "I don't know. Maybe I should talk to Bucky, try to convince him to talk to Steve. I mean, it can only end one of two ways, right?"

"And if he chooses Bucky?"

"I still care about him. I'd be his friend no matter what. He was my friend before, and nothing will change that unless he wants it to. You know, except the debilitating humiliation."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but she understood how he felt. Even with things going as well as they were with her and Tony, she was still second guessing everything.

"You'll be okay. You just need to be honest with him. And yourself," Natasha said, pointedly.

Honesty. That wasn't exactly Peter's strongest quality right now.

"When do they leave?" Peter asked.

Natasha frowned. "Two days."

"The same day as the Accords meeting?" Peter asked shrilly. "Come on. That cant be a coincidence."

"It's not," Natasha conceded patiently. "Which is why we decided we are going to reschedule. They won't be happy, but we can't risk leaving you at the Tower unprotected."

Peter scowled down at his gloved hands. "You always worry about who's going to protect me, but who's going to protect you guys? I hate this. All of it."

Natasha sat down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. The intimacy of the action surprised Peter, all irritation instantly draining from his body.

"He will be okay," Natasha promised. "He always is."

"It's not just him. It's everyone. I'm not sure if Bucky and Sam like me as much as I like them, but I don't want them hurt either."

"Every time we leave this Tower, our lives are at risk. It's not ideal but-"

"It's the choice we make. I know. I get it. I just hate being left behind," Peter's shoulders slumped.

"You can help here," Natasha said softly. "You need to stay on the ground just a little longer."

Peter nodded against her hair, but the familiar hollowness was already setting in. Worthless. Broken. Alone. The words echoed on repeat in his ears and he rubbed a hand down his face.

"I should go back to sleep," Peter said, carefully shrugging Natasha off of him. "We can patrol another night."

"Okay. Sure," Natasha said, but Peter was already halfway to the door.

Natasha watched the door shut, and she took her bottom lip between her teeth. It wasn't the first time she'd seen his emotions flip, and she knew it wouldn't be the last. Peter was good at hiding how he felt when he tried, but his facade was slowly cracking away. She just hoped they would be able to help when it finally crashed around him.


	12. A Change of Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More IronDad!  
> Bruce makes a discovery.  
> Steve and Peter💕  
> It’s only downhill from here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t spend hardly any time at all editing so I may go through in the next few days and do that. Sorry for any mistakes!

At a little after 3AM, Tony gasped awake, his chest on fire from the breath he'd been holding, and he tried to blink through the bleary, sleep hazed panic. The darkness didn't help. There were too many things he associated with darkness. The cave. The wormhole. Siberia. He clutched at his chest, hating how much it hurt. 

"JARVIS, lights."

Even under the harsh lights, the nightmares refused to dissipate, lingering in his head. 

Sleeping was getting harder and harder every day. Not that he slept everyday. When he did, it was like someone with a very sadistic mind personally designed new nightmares of horrible things happening to Peter. It was bad when his nightmares featured himself, but it was a whole new horror to see the child he was responsible for dying over and over. Tonight's nightmare was even worse than usual. He had to watch Peter being tortured right in front of him, unable to stop it as he was taken apart piece by piece, Norman's laugh echoing in his mind...was it getting worse because of everything they'd found?

Tony managed to calm his breathing, but his sweat stained clothes clung to his stomach and back, beads still rolling down his face from his hair. He pulled himself up despite his protesting muscles, pushing the blankets out of the way so he could take a quick shower. There was no going back to sleep now. 

He emerged feeling slightly more human, but no less unsettled. It only took laying in bed for a few minutes before Tony gave up completely and went to the kitchen to pour a scotch. Only, when he arrived, he found he wasn't the only one unable to sleep. Peter's head swiveled in his direction before he even made it to the end of the hall. 

"Hey. Little late isn't it?" Tony asked. 

Peter shrugged, turning back to his massive bowl of Apple Jacks. "Got hungry. What are you doing up?"

Tony walked to the cabinet, pulling out a matching bowl and the box of Fruity Pebbles. When in Rome, right? "Same."

Peter watched Tony skeptically, hunched over his cereal, then took another bite. "Where's Natasha?"

"She sent me and Bruce away to catch up on sleep."

Peter frowned, his eyes locking on Tony's face. How he hadn't noticed as soon as Tony walked into the room, he didn't know. His eyes were bloodshot, dark bruises painted beneath his eyes, making his skin deathly pale in contrast. 

"Doesn't look like you listened," Peter commented. 

Tony sighed, dropping his spoon into his bowl. "Peter, I'm tired. Can we not do this? Can't we just eat our cereal?"

"Do what? Talk about how you look like a zombie?" Tony leveled him with a look. "I'm serious, Tony. I know you're exhausted. I can see it on your face. You need to be sleeping."

"Pot-kettle, kid. You telling me you haven't been staying up just as late as me?"

Peter frowned. Touché. He wouldn't admit it though. "I don't need as much sleep. Spider thing. It's different."

"Sure, Pete. You look as crappy as I do. Are we forgetting our little snooze fest during the movie yesterday?"

"I was comfortable," Peter argued, shoveling another bite into his mouth. He pointed his spoon at Tony. "Besides, thats probably half the reason I'm awake. Sleeping half the day will do that to you."

"Sure kid."

Peter couldn't think of a response, and he wasn't sure if he was really the right person to be arguing this point. 

"So, I-uh-I'm almost finished with my project," he said instead. 

"Already? I guess that makes sense," Tony chewed thoughtfully. "You have been locking yourself in the lab a lot."

Peter scoffed. "No more than you. You and Bruce basically live down there."

Tony glanced at Peter. His face didn't hold any anger or accusation, but he still felt guilty. "They really need me on this. That's the good and bad side of being the super genius. The work never stops."

Peter tilted his head, confused at the unnecessary explanation then he realized. Tony was apologizing. "I just wish I could be locked up down there with you guys, honestly."

Tony exhaled out his nose sharply. "I'm sure. I don't know what DUM-E is going to do when I finally take my lab back from you."

"Stop throwing away my papers for one," Peter said, watching Tony with a small smile. Tony laughed, finishing the last bit of his cereal. Peter was already done with his, and took both bowls to the sink, rinsing them off after a quick thanks from Tony and setting them in the dishwasher. 

"So what are you going to do now? Go find Natasha?"

"No, I'm sure she's probably getting some rest too. It's been a long day."

"A long few weeks."

"Right. Which is why you should head back to bed," Tony said, pulling out his phone to look at the time. They'd been talking even longer than he thought. 

"Are you going to?"

Tony crossed his arms, looking at Peter sternly. "I'm the adult. Do as I say, not as I do."

"Or we could, you know. Hang out or something."

Tony frowned. "What?"

"I can't sleep. You won't sleep. We could go to my room and watch a movie or show or whatever," Peter said. "Me and May used to do it sometimes when we had a rough night."

Peter looked smaller then, even more so in his oversized pajamas, but Tony couldn't help but focus on the slight puffiness in his eyes. Whether from lack of sleep or something else entirely, he wasn't sure Peter should rely on him to avoid the cause. 

"I shouldn't be keeping you up. Even if I'm not going to bed I need to be working on my project."

"Oh. Yeah," Peter said, a downtrodden look on his face. "Sure. Okay. I was just hoping we could spend time together, but I know you're busy. Maybe we can hang out another night or something."

Tony squinted at him, like he was trying to figure out if Peter was emotionally manipulating him, but he caved with a sigh. "Fine. I'm picking the movie and I call sleeping in the recliner."

Peter grinned. "Sure. Whatever you want."

Tony retreated to his bedroom to change back into pajamas, red plaid pants and a well-worn grey AC/DC shirt, and get ready for bed. Peter did the same, and when he came out of the bathroom, Tony was grabbing a pillow off of Peter's bed and a small blanket out of the top of the closet. Peter had to stop an involuntary gush of panicked air from escaping, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. 

Tony, unaware of Peter's bout of panic, pulled it out and casually shut the door behind him 

"How was patrolling with Nat?"

Peter shrugged, trying to seem reluctant to talk rather than freaking out. "Kind of a quiet night."

Tony stopped fluffing his pillow and climbed into the recliner. "It's a rough situation. Are you going to be okay?"

Peter nodded, flattening down the wrinkles of his blanket as he pulled it back. "Yeah. I'm stuck here, remember? It's not me I'm worried about."

Tony could tell by the tone in his voice Peter wasn't hoping to spend their limited time together thinking about something out of his control. "Steve said your patrols have been going pretty smoothly."

"When did you talk to Steve?" Peter asked. 

"While you were konked out in dreamland. Didn't know you snored by the way. You'd think superpowers would knock that out." Tony glanced over at Peter, trying to hide his smirk. 

"I only started recently," Peter said, trying not to sound too defensive. It would only fuel the fire. 

"So the patrolling? Wanna update me on that or are we doing the Deflecting Game?"

Peter sighed. He appreciated Tony trying to keep his mind off of everything, but talking about Steve and patrolling wasn't exactly the best segue. "The last one me and Steve went on, all we had was a mugging and we helped some kid help find his sister. Other nights have been a bit busier, some completely quiet. Nothing we couldn't handle."

Tony's brows furrowed. "Wait. There were kids out that late? You and Steve normally don't go out until 10."

Peter snorted, amused by Tony's sudden interest in kid's bedtimes. "Don't worry. Steve gave them a lecture about walking home alone at night."

"Of course he did. Did he use the Cap voice?"

Peter laughed to himself, remembering the deepened tone Steve adopted, the stern but caring lilt in every word. "Yeah. He used the Cap voice. It's surprisingly similar to that dad voice you use sometimes."

"Rude. Apparently we need to work on instilling some manners." Tony scowled, obviously not thrilled at the comparison. "So what are we watching, menace?"

"You said you were choosing. As long as it's not those awful Captain America PSAs I'm good. I've had enough of those in detention to last a lifetime."

Tony perked. "PSA's? What PSAs?"

That, of course, led to Tony turning on YouTube, laughing and taking pictures of the giant screen with the captions "And remember kids, no one is too cool for school" across the bottom. It was fun, even if Peter didn't concentrate on the words coming out of Steve's mouth. It was nice to hear Tony laugh again, and even better to look at Steve without being weird. 

As Peter expected, once Tony put on "Happy Feet" and stopped talking, it only took less than 20 minutes before he was asleep. Peter looked at the deep lines around his eyes, the grey tinge to his skin and wondered just how long Tony had gone without it. 

Tony's head was tilted back at what looked like a painful angle, and his limbs were way too long for the small recliner, his feet dangling over the edge. Peter huffed, rolling his eyes fondly. He probably knew from the beginning he wouldn't be comfortable, but that was so like Tony. Pretending he wanted the short end of the stick to keep others from having to take it. 

Peter slid out from under his blankets, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on mute, then pulled a few more blankets from his closet. He carefully moved Tony to his bed, and it was a testament to his exhaustion that he didn't wake.

Peter laid in the chair for a while, just listening to the sound of Tony's breathing, wondering if Steve ever laid awake and thought about him too before finally allowing his exhaustion to pull him under. 

****

When Natasha knocked softly on Peter's door at 7 for sparring to find Tony sprawled out on Peter's bed, shirt riding up his stomach, his breathing soft and even for the first time in a week, she thought her heart might burst. Even when she ordered him to his room he was too stubborn to sleep more than four or five hours at a time. She should have known it would be Peter that finally got him down. 

Peter was asleep in his chair, curled up in a ball of blankets, his face alight from the glow of the the TV screen, the movie title screen playing on a loop. He looked more peaceful than she had seen him in days. 

She gently shut the door and went back to the kitchen. Bucky peeked around her then looked at her in question. 

"Thought you were wakin' up the kid?" He asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee as she sat at the counter. 

"I was. Decided he deserved a bit more sleep."

"What about Stark? He down in the lab with Banner?"

"He's sleeping too."

Bucky took a drink and nodded thoughtfully. "About damn time. He's been working himself to death."

Normally Natasha would have noted the easy exchange, how simple it was becoming to talk and check with each other about each other again, but she just nodded, her mind elsewhere. 

"Im guessing the kid didn't take it well?"

Natasha made grabby hands at the coffee pot and Bucky handed it over obligingly. "No. He's worried. He seems fairly convinced it's a set up."

Bucky's cup hovered by his lips, the smell wafting in his face with each breath. "Probably not wrong, but what can we do?"

Natasha hummed noncommittally. "That's what I told him."

Steve and Clint entered the kitchen, both looking grim faced and grimy. 

"Long night?" She asked. 

"Sleep is for the weak," Clint answered, pulling on the sleeve of his suit as he sat in the chair by Natasha. 

"The Quinjet is ready. We prepared for just about anything," Steve said, his voice clipped. Bucky gave Natasha a look, pulling out the seat beside him and handed his coffee mug to Steve. It was obvious Steve was back into his leader mode. Ever since they got the news on the receiver, Steve had quieted, a stern look carved into his face like marble. He sat down and took a tentative sip, eyes closed to ease their pounding, and let the warmth drive away the fatigue induced cold that settled in his skin. 

Between preparing the quinjet and trying to gather as much information about their destination, he, Bucky and Clint didn't climb into bed until around 4 AM. Or couch, in his and Bucky's case. Steve was slightly disappointed when he woke up. He half expected to find Bucky still sleeping soundly, a blue blanket sliding from his bare chest, shiny silver draped over his stomach, but the couch beside his was empty. 

"Hopefully," Clint interjected, not feeling much better than Steve. He rolled his neck, a soft popping noise making him wince, and he rubbed the offending spot tenderly. "It's hard to know exactly what we are going to need."

"We did what we can. I'll do another engine check before we leave, but other than that we should be set," Steve said. 

Natasha folded her arms on Clint's shoulders, resting her chin atop his head. "You guys do have a choice, you know that right? Putting your time and trust into this lead is a long shot."

Steve already considered this, even after he agreed to the mission. It was one thing for him to volunteer for something dangerous, but he was taking three of his best friends with him, and Steve didn't take that lightly. What was the alternative though? 

"I weighed the pros and cons, and I can't let the possibility slip away. If it is something as important as she says, we could finally get that edge on Hydra. Otherwise we will be waiting until they make their next move, and I don't know if I can live with that," Steve said. "If the others aren't comfortable with it, I understand, but I have to go."

"We will be okay, Nat," Clint assured her, tilting his head up against her chin to look at her. A device beeped and Bucky pulled out a small communicator, took a peek at it, then put it away. "Between me and Sam on the high ground keeping an eye out, Bucky with his Bionic arm, and Steve's dinner plate of destruction, we can take out whoever comes at us."

"I hope you're right," Natasha said. "It wouldn't be the first time Hydra pulled one over on us."

Bucky scoffed as if to say "you've got that right."

"You sure you want me to stay?"

It was harder than she expected, watching part of her team get ready to leave without her. After everything that happened, it was hard to even look at Tony, much less try to reintegrate herself into his life. She came to depend on the boys, especially Bucky and Sam, more than she hoped. 

"Yes," Steve answered immediately. "I wish I could take you, but I can't risk leaving the other's here short handed."

 _Not when they're after Peter._ Steve didn't want to think about it. There was a part of him, the leader in him perhaps, that couldn't get him out of his head, that craved desperately to check on him. They all agreed that Natasha would be the best suited to tell him they were leaving, but Steve regretted that decision as soon as she stepped out of the room. The possibilities kept playing in his head. Several times he debated asking JARVIS if Peter and Natasha discussed the mission yet, but even if they did, it felt wrong to pry.

"And if it's a trap and you guys end up short handed?"

"I'm down one and seem to do just fine," Bucky muttered, teasingly outraged. 

"I'm serious," Natasha said, but her smile gave away her amusement. 

"Me too. We will be fine. I'm just glad we've got somethin'," Bucky said, taking his cup back from Steve. "Somewhere to start. At least if it's a trap we can take some Hydra agents down. I don't like them bein' two steps ahead of us."

"That's what's worrying me," Steve said, eyes hard as he stared at Bucky's coffee cup. "Who's to say with half of us gone they aren't going to attack the Tower?"

Everyone fell silent, contemplating the notion. With the plan being so time sensitive, they didn't take a lot of time to contemplate ulterior motives, outside of trying to pull both Tony's team and Steve's away from the Tower. That was an obvious issue, with an easy solution. They decided to cancel the Accords Summit. Would that be enough to stop an attack, though?

The Tower would be an easy target with nobody but Rhodey, Bruce and Peter to defend it, but was adding Tony, and Natasha enough to dissuade them if that was their plan? It seemed they were so focused on leaving they forgot to consider all possibilities.

"We can't just wait around anticipating an attack that might not happen," Bucky said, breaking the silence. 

"He's not wrong," Clint said. "We're playing into their hands either way. We should go, but maybe we should call in backup to keep an eye on the Tower, just in case?" 

Natasha gave Steve a meaningful look, and she let out a harsh breath through her nose. "Tony's not going to like this."

******

Bruce secured the slide between his fingers into the stage clips of his microscope, his hands shaking slightly. He frowned at them like they betrayed him but made a mental note to make himself more green tea after he studied this next slide. 

Bruce could only help so much with the concealment device, so he was now free to delve back into studying the REI-01x sample, or more accurately, how to counteract its effects. It was fascinating but tedious process. Because of the serum's ability to target mutated DNA strands, the only way he knew how to test if his modifications worked was to introduce a sample to drops of mutated blood. That wasn't exactly an issue in itself, but once they merged, it was incredibly difficult to separate them again, and he had a distressingly limited amount of samples. 

Bruce pressed his eye against the eyepiece. Dozens of dark red orbs shifted between the pressed glass, blue proteins jutting from them like spikes. Bruce adjusted the knobs until the lens was focused on one particular cell. He watched as it moved quickly and with purpose, as if searching for a host, but there was an erratic jerking that didn't seem to be purposeful, knocking it from its generally straight path. After about the fifth jolt, the color phased away and bright, almost glowing gold veins pulsated beneath the surface, then seemed to tear out of its lipid envelope, and began moving across its surface like worms. 

Bruce's face contorted in thought, watching again and again as it cycled between the two forms. He knew the best way to ascertain how to nullify the serum's effects would be to target the genetic material within the cell, but without knowing exactly what to look for, it could take months. Months that Hydra would use to perfect the serum.

Bruce pulled away from the microscope, trudging over to the small fridge across the room. He reached for the small tube of his blood he'd collected the week before, but stopped. The vial from Peter's tests was sitting near the back, untouched. Surely it was pointless to try it. He'd seen the reaction from Peter's blood after the bombing. His hand hovered over the rack, and he gently replaced his sample for Peter's, inserting a pipet to pull a drop out. It couldn't hurt to double check. He stalked back to the table and looked into the eyepiece as he slid the end of the pipet across the edge of the slide, leaving a small smear of blood. 

The effect was instantaneous. The erratic movements of the cells worsened, making them look more like kernels of popcorn trying to escape the confines of the glass. Slowly but surely, they made their way to the blood, bonding with the platelets, but only partially before freezing completely. Bruce could hear the pulsing of blood in his ears. 

They...stopped moving. That wasn't consistent with his findings from Peter's original sample. 

Bruce scrawled notes with one hand, unable to tear his eyes away as each cell that touched Peter's blood fell stock still. Bruce took pictures of the slide, saving them to his drive. Then, one by one starting from the cells exposed to the blood longest, they finished bonding and began thrumming with energy, just as they had with Bruce's blood. It took almost ten minutes for them to bond. Something in Peter's blood delayed the reaction in a way Bruce's didn't. 

This was huge. Knowing that Peter's blood reacted differently to his opened up several possibilities. He now had a new angle to explore. Bruce mulled over what to do next, but his head was beginning to ache, the high of discovery starting to wane. He wearily pushed the microscope away and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, wishing he'd slept just a bit longer. He stayed like that for a while then stood from the table. 

It was time to make that tea. 

******

Peter was up in the lab when Steve finally broke and went looking for him. He lingered in the doorway, unsure if he should step inside. Peter was still, almost like a picture except for the minute movements in his hand. It was a far cry image compared to the energized chaos from the last time he was there. 

Peter could feel Steve watching him, could see it reflected in the metal when Steve's eyes gazed from his face to his hands, but Peter didn't look up, not until Steve was ready for him to. 

"Get lost again?" Steve asked, his voice wavering slightly, his arms crossed against his chest.

"Just finishing up, actually," Peter replied, glancing over at Steve from the corner of his eye, smiling. "What are you up to?"

"I was looking for you. I figured you'd come down for lunch, but you never did."

"I was asleep until 1," Peter replied easily. The only reason he'd woken up at all was because Tony... Peter's face contorted. He wasn't going to think about that yet. "You guys uh-finish getting everything together?"

Peter nodded to the seat beside him and Steve took it. Peter's fingers moved deftly to twist the small nut onto the bolt of the frame. He wanted to look at Steve, but he knew once he did, he'd lose the courage he'd worked all morning to build. 

"Yeah, we're all set. We are leaving tomorrow morning."

Peter grimaced. "I know. For the record, I'm opposed."

Steve smirked sadly. "I figured you would be."

"I'm all for webbing Hydra's ass to the wall, don't get me wrong. I just don't don't think walking into a trap without the whole team is smart," Peter clarified. 

"They can't leave you here by yourself just to give us back up."

"Then don't leave me. We can all go, and we can stay on the quinjet until we are needed," Peter said, finally meeting Steve's eyes. Steve frowned at the determined fire he saw there, a feeling of unease creeping inside him. It was odd seeing one's own self in another, yet being on opposing sides. 

Steve contemplated a moment. "That's not my decision to make."

"Isn't it?" Peter countered. "You're the Captain. Everyone follows you. Tony won't be happy, but he'd understand the decision. It's to keep your team safe."

"At the expense of your own safety?" Steve asked. 

"If it's not a trap, we will be fine. If it is, you'll have us there to help out," Peter said. 

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"If this is about Tony, we could bring it to a vote. I'm sure if everyone-"

"No." The word was out of Steve's mouth before he could stop it. He hadn't even realized how his fists tightened at his side. "It's not an option."

A muscle in Peter's jaw twitched, his eyes narrowing. "No because you have an actually reasonable argument against it, or no because you said no."

"No because it would only put more people at risk. I already have to watch out for Sam, Clint, and Bucky. They are all my responsibility. If we all go and we all get hurt, who will protect everyone else?"

"That's crap," Peter challenged. "You all fought against an army of aliens. Taken out entire Hydra outposts. We would be safer together and you know it. Why are you dismissing me?"

"Because you're a kid!" Steve snapped. "You're not even 18. You've only been training with Natasha for a short time. You're not ready to be on the field yet."

Kid? Peter's eyes flashed angrily. 

"18 burglaries, 12 robberies, 25 assaults, 7 car collisions," Peter recited. "Ned started keeping logs on everything I’ve done, the people I've helped or put away. Those were the last numbers he gave me. I'm stronger than you and I can hold my own as well as any of the Avengers."

"Those are small time criminals, Queens. It's not the same as taking on Hydra."

"Okay, fine. And the 6 or so Hydra agents I took out by myself after a surprise attack without my updated suit? What about that?" Peter shot back. "Sooner or later your going to run out of excuses, _Brooklyn_ , and you'll realize I'm right."

Steve stared at him but Peter ignored him and turned back to his work, picking up his wrench to secure the next bolt. Steve could tell his hands were shaking, but didn't comment on it, his own adrenaline making him feel on edge. He waited until he could trust himself to remain calm before he spoke again. 

"I don't want to spend the last day before I leave fighting with you."

"Then don't," Peter replied, voice cold. He was surprised at how badly he wanted to get up and leave. He expected Steve to reject his idea, but something about the word kid, the way he said no before even considering his stance...It reminded him of how he perceived Steve before. The stubborn, _dangerous_ Steve. "I'm sure there are lots of other things you could be doing."

"What I mean is," Steve started again, voice clipped. "I was hoping we could spend time together. Without fighting."

"You can't do that," Peter snapped. "You can't guilt me into being happy just because you're choosing to leave soon."

"We have to-"

"No," Peter interrupted him. "You have to go, but you don't have to put yourself in danger. I would never ask anyone not to fight for what they think is right, because I would hate for someone to ask that of me. But when you have web shooters, you use them. You have abilities, use them. If you have back up, use them. If you don't, if you aren't using every resource you have, you aren't being a hero, you're being a Martyr."

"I can't let you go with us," Steve enunciated slowly. "I'm sorry, but I can't. If that means I have to live with you being mad at me for a while, I can do that."

Peter glared at him. "Great. I'm glad it's so easy for you."

It was a staring contest, one without a winner no matter who blinked first. Steve was a brick wall and Peter's fire threatened to burn through him. 

But the sympathetic blue seeped in through Peter's eyes, and he scowled at the table, a slight flash of his heartache painting his face before dissolving like watercolor. "I don't want anyone to hurt you either. It sucked watching you guys leave the first time knowing I could help, but it's different now. I understand why Tony and Natasha want to keep me in a box, I was just hoping you'd have my back on this."

"I'm sorry," Steve said. 

Peter sighed heavily. "Me too."

They sat in silence, then Peter ran a hand through his hair. "I think I'm going to finish up the project. It should only take about an hour. If you want to hang out then, we can."

Steve bit the inside corner of his lip. "Can I stay? I know you don't want me to see it, but I can go grab my sketchbook."

Peter brows furrowed, lips in a tight line. He nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. Sure. But you have to sit on the couch and face that way. If you don't peek, maybe I can show you today."

"You're that close?"

Peter nodded. "Worked on it some last night. Can you grab me a water when you come back up? I apparently didn't restock."

Steve gave him a warm smile. "Sure."

Steve came back fifteen minutes later with his sketchbook a box full of drinks. Peter was hard at work again, but a big piece of cardboard hid his face and the project. Steve shook his head in amusement and quietly filled the fridge, putting a cold water on Peter's table before making himself at home on the couch and opened his book to his most recent sketch. 

Peter was sitting on the edge of Stark Tower, in his Spider-Man crouch, but he was dressed in his usual Peter Parker street clothes. His head was turned to the side, a soft but serious look on his face as he looked out over the city. He seemed to glow in the otherwise dark surroundings. Moonlight bled down the page in shades of navy blue and gold in the background. More than ever he considered re-sketching Peter's expression, hating he hadn't captured Peter's grin he loved so much, but it didn't feel right. It was disingenuous. 

Steve pulled out his supplies, working to finish the shading as Peter worked behind him. He got lost in it, and before he knew it, Peter was standing from his spot. 

"Steve?"

He perked, putting down his pencil. "Yeah?"

"It's finished, if you want to see it. I just have to put it together."

His book snapped shut, and he tucked it between the cushion and the arm of the couch. He walked over tentatively, watching Peter anxiously gather the last of his things. 

"If you don't want to show me today, you don't have to," Steve said, reassuringly. "I do want to see it when you're ready though."

Peter shook his head. "It's fine. I'm just-I don't-I'm not sure why I'm so nervous," he admitted. "It's not even that big of a deal."

"You've worked hard on it. Do you want me to help?"

"No, just-uhm. Just give me a second."

Peter grabbed the square shaped frame he was working on when Steve came and slid in into the support beam jutting from the wall. There was a large black square on the floor below it, looking like a giant obsidian tile. When the frame was secure, he lifted the giant sheet covered mass from the table as easily as it were made of styrofoam instead of metal. He looked from the sheet to the hook, then laughed nervously, a slight blush on his face. 

"Is it-would it be weird if I asked you to close your eyes?"

The words themselves were innocent but the anxious anticipation on Peter's face lit a fire in his stomach. He swallowed but closed his eyes obligingly, without so much as a light tease much to Peter's surprise. He quickly moved to assemble the piece, making last minute adjustments. Peter couldn't help but continue to peek over at Steve, his heart racketing in his chest well after he was satisfied with his work. He flipped a switch on the floor beside the tile, and watched eagerly as the object lifted. It was ready. Peter rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, his eyes running over Steve's face one last time. 

"I-I’m done," he announced, shakily. "You can open them."

Whatever Steve had imagined, this wasn't it. 

The statue was massive, and as impressive in beauty as it was in size. The mirror image of Manhattan seemed to float in mid air, defying gravity as it bobbed slightly, spinning a little with each movement. Most of the buildings were dark, and together looked like a multidimensional silhouette, except for maybe a half dozen buildings on top and bottom, which were exact replicas, down the color and texture of the walls. Steve stepped closer, noticing just how much time went into those few buildings, plants and curtains adorning some of the lit windows, their light spilling on to the buildings around it. 

"Wow," Steve asked, looking to Peter. "You did all of this?"

Peter moved nervously from foot to foot. 

"Yeah, uhm. You can take a closer look. Don't worry about breaking it. It's pretty durable."

Despite Peter's assurance, Steve moved carefully forward, not wanting to even breathe on the piece Peter worked so hard making. His eyes roamed, taking in all the small details; the moving cars, the bike racks, the traffic signs. Even the Manhattan that was upside down had moving parts. 

Everything was painted in greyscale, as if they were plucked from a black and white photograph, but it was hauntingly beautiful despite their lack of color. His turned his attention to the colored buildings, and his eyes widened as they landed on one of the ones toward the center. 

"Denna's," he exclaimed, his voice light as he brushed his fingers over the ragged surface. "It looks a little different than I remember, but the sign is the exact same."

"All of the lit places on top are places remaining from the 40's," Peter said through a broad smile, motioning over to them. "The ones on bottom were all of your favorite places, or at least the ones you told me about."

"You mean Denna's is still there?" Steve asked with a sharp intake of breath. "I never even bothered to look."

Steve bent, looking at the buildings on bottom. Sure enough, all of the buildings were ones he recognized from his memories of childhood trips to Manhattan. Places he hadn't thought about in years, ones he didn't even remember the names of plucked from the past and modeled right in front of him. 

How much time did Peter have to research to make this? 

Steve was struck with a sudden wave of longing, twisting and gnawing. Steve sometimes felt that way when he watched the sunset on his runs. He liked that they still looked the same now as it did then. Each one was different in color, in texture, but still just as beautiful. He couldn't say that about a lot of things. Even the moon and the stars were different. The sun, though-the sun was the same. 

A flurry of expressions passed over Steve's face. Peter noticed, and words tumbled clumsily out. "Oh. Yeah. I-I called and it's ran by the same family and everything. Like you said, they did some renovating, but they kept the menu. You could literally go there and eat the same thing you did when you were a kid. What was it the creamy tomato soup or whatever? I was going to order some, but-"

Steve's eyes met his, then Peter's vision went black. His whole body tensed, and it took him much longer than it should to realize that Steve was hugging him, his strong arms wrapped gently around him. 

"This is amazing, Queens. I mean it," Steve said reverently. 

Peter didn't reply. Couldn't. He almost felt dizzy with the sudden rush of endorphins in his blood. Instead he pressed his face against Steve's chest, inhaling his usual scent of vanilla coffee and leather, and pulled him tighter against him. They stood like that for a long moment, then Peter pulled away slowly, scared if he moved too quickly he could shatter the moment. 

"I wanted you to see it before you left," he said quietly. "That's why I worked on it last night."

Steve felt a pang in his chest, and pulled Peter back, squeezing tighter. "I'm glad you did."

Peter didn't allow himself to melt into the touch again. His arms stayed wrapped around Steve, but his eyes stared into the heather grey fabric of Steve's shirt until they both finally released each other. 

The statue was still barley moving, the beautiful lights bright even in the well lit room. "When you get back, you can help me move it to your floor."

Steve looked at Peter bewildered. "You're letting me keep it?"

Peter smiled. "Of course. Why do you think it was a surprise? I just have to make a video to submit with my paper, then it's all yours."

"That's.." Steve shook his head. "You were always going to give it to me?"

"I decided I was going to make it when you showed me that sketch." 

Steve tilted his head. "What sketch?"

"The day we watched Star Wars," Peter explained. "I was gone five seconds and you drew that Manhattan skyline. I wanted to show you that maybe Manhattan from the 40's wasn't as different from the one now as you thought. Bring the two together."

Steve blinked, both surprised and touched that a passing doodle was the inspiration for something so massive. 

The door opened behind them, and Tony and Bruce stepped inside. They both seemed to read the energy in the room, their chatter waning. 

"Everything okay?" Tony asked, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah. Actually, Peter finished his project," Steve said proudly. Peter gave him a half smile in return. "It's amazing, right?"

"Wow," Bruce said, his lips turning down. "Yeah. Is that a magnetic plate?"

"Yeah. I got the idea from the plates Tony used in the training room," Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Tony inspected the intricate metal work, whistling lowly. "How many hours did you log on this?"

Peter blushed, his eyes flitting to Steve. "I don't know. Not too many."

"JARVIS?"

"Peter spent approximately 18.6 hours assembling his project."

Peter grimaced at the high number. Tony shot Steve a quick but meaningful look, then ruffled Peter's hair, smiling broadly. "It's great kid. Even better than I expected. If that teacher doesn't give you an A let me know. I know people."

Tony winked at him and Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure she was expecting a poster board or something. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"That's way better than a poster board," Steve agreed. 

"That's for sure. I hate to interrupt the unveiling, but if you guys are done in here, we are having a meeting downstairs," Bruce said, still looking over the various parts of the statue. "I think I've got something to share."

"Great," Steve said with a slight smile. "Because I do too."

*****

They gathered in the meeting room for once. Bruce already had everything set up when they arrived, and he quickly dove into his findings. 

"I assumed that because Peter's samples from the bombing were the same as mine, that I could use my blood as a control and study them without needing to poke and prod anyone else," Bruce explained pointing to the two pictures on the screen. "However, it seems that I was wrong. I wasn’t considering the possibility that his blood differed from mine in an earlier stage, but that seems to be the case. It turns out that when the serum is initially exposed to Peter's blood, there is a significant delay in the bonding process."

"What does that mean?" Natasha asked. 

Bruce slid his hand and the image of the partially bonded cell popped up on the screen. "When exposed to my blood, you can see that they automatically envelope my cells. Here, on Peter's blood, they freeze. When you were shot with the dart, how long did it take for the effects of the serum to take effect?"

Peter shrugged, eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not sure. I was fine until after the fight. I just remember everything starting to feel weird.”

Bucky nodded, smirking. "He was making quips one minute then calling Steve cappy-poo the next."

"Cappy-Cap," Steve corrected. Peter raised a brow at him, but Steve just shrugged. 

"Would you say about 10 minutes?" Bruce asked, twisting a marker lid between his fingers. 

Peter purses his lips in thought. “Maybe a little less, but yeah. That sounds about right."

Bruce grinned. "That fits the time frame of how long it takes the serum to bond with your blood."

“So the effects don’t occur until the serum is fully bonded?” Natasha asked. 

“Right. The goal now is to find out what is prolonging the bond and how to recreate whatever it is in a way that can be used on anyone.”

"And how do you do that exactly?" Clint asked. "Suck out a bunch of his blood and make an antidote or something?"

Peter looked to Bruce in concern, but Tony rolled his eyes. "Nobody is draining Peter's blood. We're scientists, not Nosferatu."

"So what then?" Sam asked. “This is a pretty big breakthrough, but there’s still a long way to go right?”

Bruce nodded. “Now that I know that Peter’s blood reacts differently than mine, I need to collect blood from every mutate I can. Steve and Bucky will be a good start until we can get more.”

“If Bruce can figure out what makes the reactions between mutates different, it can help us narrow down what gene is attacking the cells and counteract it.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully, looking to Bucky. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Before we get into that though, you had something to share with the class?” Tony asked, trying not to seem to eager. If he was being honest, it was eating at him the whole meeting. 

Natasha raised a brow at Steve. 

“Right. A few of us were discussing the particulars of the mission this morning, and-“

"Captain, I apologize for the interruption, but there are two men requesting entrance to the penthouse to talk with Peter. Should I let them up?"

Everyone stilled. 

"Expecting company, Peter?" Natasha asked slowly, but she already knew the answer. 

"Who are they, JARV?" Tony demanded. 

"Detectives Henry Killian and Michael Andrews," JARVIS replied. "According to their badge numbers, they appear to be work for the Queens Police Department. Happy is double checking with them now.”

“Why would the police want to talk to Peter?” Clint asked.

“They wouldn’t,” Tony said.

"Sam and Clint, suit up but stay out of sight. Bruce keep an eye on things from the lab," Steve commanded, all thoughts of the meeting forgotten. He stood protectively in front of Peter alongside Tony and Nat.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused. What-why are you guys freaking out?” Peter asked. 

"How do you want to do this?" Steve asked Tony quietly. 

Tony shook his head, tense. “I don’t know.”

"Hello? Do you think they’re Hydra or something?" Peter asked. "I mean. If they are, we should question them, right? See what they know?"

“They wouldn’t tell us anything if they were,” Bucky said. “They never do.”

“JARVIS said they checked out, though. Couldn’t they just be real detectives?”

“We could be wrong,” Steve agreed, but his voice was unconvinced. 

“Guess we’ll see,” Bucky muttered. 

They all waited, the room tense as they stared at the elevator. Two men dressed in police uniforms stepped into the meeting room, eyes instantly searching for Peter. 

One man was tall and broad with dark hair and a nicely groomed beard. He was like a bear, not only in looks, but demeanor. He seemed to tower over the room, an air of raw power clinging to him. The other man was clean shaven and muscular, deep red hair stylishly untidy. He seemed less of a force of nature, and more cool and collected. His suit and glasses were smart and crisp looking, but not overly so. 

The bearded man seemed to see Peter first, but the red-head beat him to acknowledging Tony. 

“Mr. Stark. I’m Detective Andrews and this is my partner Detective Killian. I understand you are Peter Parker’s temporary guardian?”

Tony glared at the man’s outstretched hand, not even bothering to give his partner a passing glance. “What is this about?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that until we’ve spoken to Mr. Parker.”

“Did you find out something about my aunt?” Peter asked. He was embarrassed at the obvious hope in his voice. 

Detective Andrews shook his head, and Peter was surprised he felt worse than he had before. “I’m sorry, but that’s not why we’re here. Now, if you guys wouldn’t mind giving us the room for a few minutes, we-“

Tony held up a hand, causing Detective Andrews to tilt his head in question. 

“Yeah, no. We won’t be doing that. He needs a lawyer before he says anything,” Tony said. Steve seemed to agree, further positioning himself between them and Peter. Peter huffed in annoyance, but one glance from Buck told him not to argue. 

“We had a feeling you’d say that,” Detective Killian said. “Which is why we requested a warrant for arrest ahead of time. You can either agree to informal questioning, or we can arrest him now and hold him until you can get a lawyer.”

“Arrest?” Peter shrieked, incredulous. “For what?”

“This is ridiculous,” Steve practically growled. Bucky grabbed his arm as he stepped forward, his jaw tense as he silently warned Steve off. 

“We don’t feel comfortable discussing the facts of the case this early in the investigation,” Detective Killian said, gruffly. 

“You can’t even tell him what it’s about?” Steve asked, affronted. 

“Not in front of you, no. My apologies,” Detective Killian said with a less than genuine smile.

Natasha pulled on Tony’s sleeve and leaned close to his ear. “They can’t leave the Tower with him. We won’t be able to keep an eye on him here. You need to let them question him.”

Tony huffed, his frustration evident. 

“If it makes it easier, we can let you stay right outside,” Detective Andrews offered. 

Tony looked to Natasha, who nodded curtly. “That won’t be necessary.”

Tony turned to Peter, side-eyeing the detectives. “I’m giving them 10 minutes. If you don’t want to answer something, don’t.”

Peter nodded, but there was an anxious knot in his throat that wouldn’t allow him to breathe, much less form words. Tony squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, then Peter watched as the three of them reluctantly walked out. 

As soon as they were out of sight, the group quickly made their way to the lab with Bruce. He was already staring at the screen intently when they walked in, Detective Andrews just beginning to sit down from shutting the door. Peter was sitting across the table from them, and even from the lab they could feel the stress emanating from Peter. Steve's hands clenched at his side, eyes boring angrily into the officer's heads. 

"Do you have any idea why we're here?" Detective Andrews asked. 

_Of course he doesn't_ , Steve thought, spitefully. _You wouldn't tell him._

Peter shook his head, his foot bouncing under the table. "No. I-You already told me you haven't found my Aunt May."

"You go to Midtown High, correct?" 

"Yes, sir. I've gone there since Kindergarten."

"Okay. So then I suppose you know this student?" Detective Killian pushed a file across the table. Peter looked from the file to Detective Killian then back again. He reached over to pull it closer and opened it. 

The picture was older, probably by at least three years. His hair was shorter and his cheeks chubbier, but there was no mistaking the white hair and grey-blue eyes staring back at him. 

"Yeah. It's-it's, that's Steven. Steven Wescott. He's been going there for about a month, I think. A couple of weeks."

"How would you describe your relationship with Mr. Wescott?"

"Relationship?" Peter asked, the word tasting like bile on his tongue. Peter's brows pulled together, trying to think of the best way to navigate the questions. "I mean, he's my art project partner but that's it. We only actually worked together once."

"Are you aware that he hasn't shown up to school the last five days?"

Both rooms seemed to drop a few degrees. 

Peter's eyes widened. Five days? "What? No. I-I'm not even going to school anymore. Did something happen?"

"That's what we're here to ask you," Detective Andrews said, opening another file and pushing the picture across the desk. "When was the last time you spoke with Mr. Wescott?"

Peter's mouth was gaped as he floundered, trying to remember through his anxious haze. "Uhm. My-my last day of school was the last I talked to him in person, and I-uh-I messaged him a few days after about our project but he never messaged back."

"What did you say in the email?"

"I just told him what time line we should focus on. I can show you it if you need me to," Peter said hesitantly. 

"That won't be necessary. Do you recognize this?"

The detective laid something on the table, and Tony moved forward, squinting at the screen. His stomach dropped to his feet. 

"What is it?" Bruce asked, his voice wavering uncertainly. 

The wall in the picture seemed to have been in the spatter zone of something terrible, dark and thick lines dripping down the rough textured brick. There were shots from multiple angles, and it seemed to soak into the bricks as they progressed, by the end looking more like rust spots than blood.

"Is that...?" Peter asked, his eyes shooting back up to the detective's. 

"Blood, Yes. It is."

Tony looked to Bruce, nodding his head grimly then gave Natasha an uneasy look. "Maybe we should pull him out."

Natasha shook her head. "Shh. Just listen."

"Get why we're here yet?"

Peter stared blankly at Killian despite the pounding in his chest and ears. 

"The blood on this wall tested positive as belonging to Steven Wescott," Detective Andrews explained, pulling the test from the bottom of the pictures and setting it on top. 

Peter's tried to scan over the sheet, but his eyes kept flitting unwittingly back the picture. Steven was what, hurt? Dead? Whatever it was hadn't ended well, but what was he supposed to say? 

"Oh," he started, his voice cracking. "I-Uhm. That is-that is really awful, but what does that have to do with me? I already told you I'm not in school anymore."

Detective Killian touched Andrews with a finger, signaling he would take the question. He sat down across from Peter and rested his hands on the desk. 

"We've been to your school. We interviewed students, teachers, your friends," he said, putting extra emphasis on friends. Peter's brows furrowed. They knew about all this? Why hadn't Ned or MJ messaged him? "Everyone tells the same story."

Peter looked worriedly between the two men. "What story is that, exactly?"

"Steven helped out your sexual preferences weeks ago. They told the whole school you were gay. Some even saw flyers with your search history."

Everyone turned to look at Tony and Steve, who seemed as equally shocked by the story as they did. 

Peter sputtered, shaking his head. "No! I mean yes. They did tell everyone and Steven helped, but it was really Flash that outed me. Steven told him he was being a jerk, but Flash didn't care."

Tony felt his blood start to boil. Flash. Peter mentioned the little twerp that was always picking on him. Why didn't Peter tell him he did something so awful? Did he not think Tony would help him?

"If It were me, I'd be pretty mad if someone released my search history," Killian said, shrugging.

"Yeah, because it's private, but there wasn't anything bad. Not like you're thinking. Just proof that I was-questioning things, I guess," Peter said, flushing with embarrassment. "Just because I was mad didn't mean I hated them."

"So you were friends with Steven, then? You didn't cause him to have a panic attack in the middle of class?" Killian asked, his voice taking on an accusing edge. 

"I wouldn't say we were friends, but I didn't cause his panic attack either. He was hitting on me and after I turned him down, he tried to touch me. I yanked my arm back and got a bruise. He must've thought I was going to get mad or tell on him because he started freaking out."

"He tried to touch you? What does that mean?" 

Tony's face hardened, and Natasha grabbed his hand, squeezing it softly as Peter's face twisted up in disgust on the a screen. 

"No, it wasn't like that. He just touched my hand."

"And you jumped back hard enough to bruise?"

"Steven makes me uncomfortable. It wasn't the first time he said things like that."

"Explain that. Said things like what? How did he talk to you?"

"I don’t-I’m not,” Peter huffed and his lips tightened into a hard line as he worked to clear his head. “He said I was-you know-pretty the day we paired up in art class. He talked about how much he liked how big my eyes were or something. He was always watching me and told me he could sneak me out of my house. Stuff like that."

Peter shifted in his seat, and even as far away as the camera was, Steve could tell how ashamed Peter was feeling. Steve wanted nothing more than to tell Peter it wasn't his fault, that he didn't owe Steven anything just because Steven liked him. Especially if he made Peter uncomfortable. 

"From what we've learned, you two only seemed to have had three interactions, one of which was outing you. He got a crush on you and was vocal about it that soon?"

Peter nodded. "Maybe because he knew I was g-gay? I told him I wasn't interested, but he seemed adamant about getting to know me."

Detective Andrews gave Killian a look and cleared his throat. "Let me level with you, Peter. From what we've learned so far, your side of the story doesn't look good for you."

"Wait, what? Why??"

"You are outed by three teens, one of which was Wescott. You obviously weren't ready to admit you were gay, and they told the entire school. A homosexual man begins hitting on you. You reject him, send him into a panic attack that everyone witnessed, then he disappears only days after you are pulled out of school. Many people would deduce you are harboring internalized homophobia and snapped. If that's the case, it sounds a lot like motive and opportunity to me."

"My friends knew I was bi, I just wasn't ready to admit to anyone I was gay, not when I wasn't sure. I'm not homophobic. And I haven't left the Tower in days so even if I didn't like the guy I couldn't have hurt him."

"Can anyone prove that you were here?"

"What? You mean besides at least one of the Avengers? What time was it? What day?"

"October 12, between 12 and 3."

The twelfth. Peter pulled out his phone to look and his calendar and winced. One of his project nights in his room. Maybe it wouldn't be easy to get an alibi after all.

"Tony, pull him out," Steve demanded, shaking with anger. Bucky came to stand by him, crossing his arms, but standing close enough that Steve could feel his side brushing against Bucky's. 

Natasha shook her head. "Just wait."

"How long are we going to wait, Nat?" Tony yelled, equally as done watching Peter be talked down to. "Until they escort him out?"

"You have video surveillance, Tony. They try to take him we will show them and send them on their way. Just wait," she said, icily. She didn't want Peter in there either, but they needed to know as much as they could. 

"Guys," Bruce interrupted, motioning to the screen. 

"-one more question then. What is happening here? It look like the discussion is pretty heated."

Peter glared at the tablet with the still of him and Steven in the hallway arguing. 

"He was mad at me for reacting the way I did when he touched me. I told him I barely knew him. Him touching me and my friends touching me are totally different, but I'm guessing since you probably watched the footage that you knew that already."

They didn't have anything to say to that. Typical. 

"And why did you leave school?" 

"My Aunt May went missing a month ago. Tony was starting to worry that I could be in danger, so he pulled me out."

"Tony being Tony Stark, correct?"

Peter nodded.

"And that was the day after the altercation?"

Peter pursed his lips together, irritably. 

"I didn't hurt him. I never even touched him. Ever," Peter said, stone-faced. "Now, by my count that was three questions, two more than what you said you had. Are we done?"

Killian glared at Peter, but Andrews nodded and stood up. "We will be stopping by in a few days. Don't leave town and expect a call. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Peter just nodded, not trusting himself to sound as calm and collected as he did before. They shut the door, and everyone watched as Peter buried his face in his hands. 

Natasha gave Tony a nod, and he was gone in the next second. Steve watched the screen, surprised at how small and broken Peter looked. 

Tony opened the door only a minute and Peter's head snapped up. 

"Tony," Peter said, his voice betraying how unsettled he was. "They-they think I hurt him. They think I killed Steven Wescott."

"I know, kid," Tony said, still standing at the door. "We will get the videos from where you were and we will clear everything up."

"You-you don't understand. There was a lot of blood. Everyone thinks I did it!" Peter said, sounded hurt. "They didn't even tell me. They talked to Ned and MJ. Why didn't they tell me?"

"I know, kid."

Peter seemed to soak in what Tony was saying and looked at him, brows furrowed. "You-what do you mean you know?"

Tony grimaced, then pointed up at the camera, and everyone winced, guiltily, despite Peter not being able to see them. Peter followed his finger and Steve watched as the color drained from his face. 

"Who? Who all heard?"

Tony gave him a look and Peter thought he was going to be sick. 

"Everyone saw? You all heard everything?" Peter asked, his voice wobbly. 

Tony nodded, apologetically. "It's okay. You know we care about you, no matter if your a Black Widow guy or an Iron Man guy."

Peter scoffed in surprise. “I was more worried about the accusation of murder, but thanks.”

Despite his words, Peter didn't hesitate to hug Tony when he opened his arms. 

"We will figure this out kid. No matter what it takes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in the summary, it’s only downhill from here. The story is about to get more intense from here on out, so strap in. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Stay Safe and Happy Reading! 🕷🇺🇸💕


	13. I HATE THIS CHAPTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blah.  
> Arguments! Lots of them.  
> We’re transitioning people!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that I have a tumblr. I really only use it to post pictures from chapters, sometimes give a preview for upcoming chapters, but it’s there if you guys have any questions(: 
> 
> 💁🏻♀️infernal-panda.tumblr.com

"So what do we do now?" Clint asked, lips in a tight line.

Everyone was back in the meeting room, looking more concerned that the Detectives hadn't been Hydra, which was disturbing enough in itself. What added insult to was the not so subtle glances Peter could feel people stealing when he thought he wouldn't notice. All except Steve, who only gave him a reassuring smile.

"There's not much we can do. Peter obviously didn't do it. We have to trust that the police will continue their investigation and figure out what really happened."

Tony nodded along as Natasha spoke, gripping his jaw, arms crossed. Everyone but Tony was sitting, too busy looking out the window at the dreary sky, deep in thought. "JARVIS, compile video evidence of Peter's whereabouts during the time frame of the murder and send it to the police station. Make sure it is time stamped."

"Of course, sir."

"Should we send a picture of his elbow?" Steve asked.

Tony shook his head. "They could use it as motive if they decide to pursue him anyway."

"The video should keep 'em off of Peter's back, but it doesn't explain what happened to the Wescott kid," Bucky pointed out. "If he really was Hydra there must be a reason he was hurt publicly. They don’t make a habit of showing themselves off."

"He disappeared right after Peter left school. You said it was what? Three days after Peter dropped out?" Sam said, shrugging. "Sounds like they wanted to set him up."

"Things are definitely escalating," Bruce agreed, putting his glasses on the table. "Every time we make progress with Hydra, something new arises. In my experience, things are not that coincidental."

"Two steps ahead," Bucky echoed his words from that morning.

"Why though?" Peter asked. "What good does me going to jail do them?"

Bruce looked to Tony, but Tony subtly shook his head. This was not the time to open a whole new can of worms.

"They could be trying to get you out of the Tower. They probably like their chances of taking you from a jail cell better than attacking us head on," Steve said. "I just wish I knew why they wanted you to begin with. Why take your aunt if they wanted you? They haven't offered to exchange you for her, haven't threatened to hurt her to lure you out. It just doesn't make sense."

"We already know they may not have anything to bargain with," Natasha said, looking apologetically to Peter. He gave her a tight smile, but it didn't make her feel any better.

Tony frowned at his feet. "That's a possibility, but if they killed her, why didn't they just leave her body behind as a message?"

"The giant blood stamp was message enough," Peter said darkly. "Plus why allow me any kind of closure when they could leave me wondering?"

"That ain't usually their style, but everything that's happened since then hasn't exactly been par of the course either," Bucky said.

"Maybe we should break for now," Natasha said, the whole room beginning to vibrate with unease and agitation. "We can reconvene later."

Steve sighed. "There's one more thing we probably need to discuss first."

Tony visibly perked, curiosity pulling him from the fog. "And what would that be?"

"When we leave, the Tower will be vulnerable. We considered that they could be trying to catch Peter here unprotected, but with Natasha staying behind, she, Tony and Rhodes will be the only ones able to defend the Tower," Steve explained.

"Unless Hulk wants to bust out, but we're guessing you'd like to avoid that, right Banner?" Clint asked.

Bruce nodded. "I think that would be best for everyone."

"With that in mind, we were thinking it would be smart to recruit backup to stay with you guys until we get back," Steve said.

"Okay. So what were you thinking?" Tony asked, a grim set in his face. "Wanda and Vision are out of the question, you do know that right? If the Accords council found out Wanda was back before she has her powers under control we could undo everything we've built."

"Not Wanda and Vision," Bucky said.

Tony stared at him expectantly. "Then who?"

"Thor. And Loki, if you think he'll come," Steve said to Bruce.

"What? Really?" Peter asked. "That would be awesome."

"Oh god," Tony lamented. "I just bought new dishes when Peter moved in."

Natasha smirked at Steve and Bucky as if to say, "Told you so."

"I thought you said they were busy in Asgard?" Peter asked Bruce.

"They are," Bruce agreed, looking more flustered than Peter ever seen him. "You guys would really be okay with Loki staying?"

"Of course," Natasha said.

"We've had him here before," Tony shrugged. "He seems to be doing way better. My concern is with our buff blonde friend."

"Yeah. I actually kind of like him when he's not forcing me to try to kill people. He's pretty good at darts. Puts you guys to shame for sure," Clint teased, twirling a pencil between his fingers.

"Do you think they can come down for a few days? It should only take us a day or so to get the intel, but depending on what it is we could be gone longer," Steve asked, his eyes flitting over to Peter. Peter held eye contact, pressing his lips together. He didn't want to think about what other reasons their return could be delayed.

Bruce swallowed, but nodded. "Yeah. Yes. I should double check, but it shouldn't be a problem."

"I think that would make everyone feel a little better about the situation," Natasha said, appreciatively. "Thank you, Bruce."

"Absolutely."

"Looks like you finally get to meet the magical girls, Pete," Tony said, smirking at the expression on his face.

"Yeah. It's-it's just-Wow. I'm sorry, I know I should be really freaked right now but-I mean. I get to meet THE Loki and Thor. Like, literal gods will be staying a few floors below me. How cool is that?"

Steve frowned at Peter's excitement , unsure how to process this new development.

"Yeah, they're alright but obviously not as cool as me." Tony smirked, bending over to whisper in Peter's ear. "Just remember who's on your notebook, okay kid?"

Peter groaned and Tony smacked a large hand on his shoulder.

"Alright. I think we've had enough excitement for one day," Sam said, running a hand down his face. "I swear I leave the Tower for a few hours and it's chaos when I come back."

"Story of our lives," Natasha said. "Do you guys want to have breakfast together before you leave?"

Bucky stood up, stretching. "As long as you're not the one cooking."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Ha-ha."

"Sorry, Nat but I second that," Clint said, dodging the paper ball she threw at his head.

"I'll have food brought up so nobody is stuck with dishes," Tony said, smiling at the adorable scowling Natasha. "Meet in the kitchen at 6?"

Steve nodded. "Sounds good. We'll be there."

Everyone started to gather their things to leave, but Tony stepped over to Steve, lowering his voice. "Can you stay behind a minute? It won't take long."

Steve's brows pulled together but he sat back down without protest. "Sure."

Bucky looked between them, then reluctantly grabbed his bag, pulling it over his shoulder. "I'm almost done packing. Meet you on your floor when I'm done?"

Steve nodded. "That's fine."

"Are we working out?" Peter asked Steve and Bucky.

Bucky smirked. "Sure kid."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Yeah we should get one more good one in, right? Around 8 okay?"

"Sounds awesome," Peter turned to Tony. "You still on for dinner?"

"Yep. Me and Bruce have a few things to discuss before we head up but we'll be there. Gotta talk to Steve first though. Mission stuff," Tony answered. Peter looked skeptical, suddenly regretting that he didn’t have Goggles with him, but he didn't argue.

"Okay. See you in a bit."

Tony helped Bruce gather his equipment on to the cart, then paced by the window again, waiting until everyone was out before letting out a long breath. "So-Today didn't go as expected."

"No," Steve agreed. "It didn't."

Steve nodded to the seat in front of him, the thought of Tony moving around the duration of their talk enough to make him anxious. Tony acquiesced, looking lost in thought. He wasn't good at talking about things like this.

"Is everything okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah. Everything's fine, just listen. Putting aside our...past differences, I'd like to think that we are more than just colleagues. We were friends, once. We trusted each other. Looked out for each other. We didn't always agree, but we came to respect each other. Right?"

Steve swallowed heavily. "Yes. Of course. I'd like to think we could be that again. Things probably won't be as great as they were, but a lot has changed a lot in just the last week or so, so who knows."

"I think so too. There were mistakes made from both sides, but stepping away from the emotional aspect of it, not being so tangled in that negative headspace has made me realize that most of our issues could have been resolved if we'd been more willing to fight for each other rather than with each other."

"Why do I get the feeling this is leading to some sort of request?" Steve asked.

"No. Not a request. I won't ask you to do anything you don't want to do."

"Then what is it? It can't be nothing." Steve knew better than to think Tony would ever willingly bring up this conversation. There were too many feelings involved.

Tony tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. "I'm going to fight for you here, and give you a bit of advice. Peter has been through a lot."

Steve felt his stomach twist at the reminder of what they'd learned about Steven. Not only did he hurt Peter, he was making him uncomfortable, advancing on him. _He said I was-you know, pretty..._ Steve gritted his teeth.

"For some god awful reason, he's obviously been growing very attached to you." Steve huffed out a laugh, the comment pulling him back into the moment. Now this-this sounded like Tony. "So far, I've wondered if you were unaware, because you don't seem to be dissuading his interest. If anything you seem to be encouraging it."

Steve flushed under the implication, embarrassment and shame fighting for dominance. "I'm not sure I understand-"

Tony interrupted him, leaning back in his chair. "I'm not going to pry about your feelings or anything, because I don't get paid for that, and frankly it's none of my business, but maybe you should take this mission to think about what I've said, what you've learned about Peter today, and how you want to move forward. Just-If you don't care for him the way he cares for you, that's okay. You can still be his friend. Telling him sooner rather than later would be best, though. Okay? The last thing either of us wants is to hurt the kid."

Steve studied Tony's face for something, some negative emotion, but it was impassive as ever. He slowly nodded. "Okay. I'll think about it."

"Good," Tony said, standing. He straightened his shirt, then looked to Steve again, torn. "Thanks for actually listening. I hope everything works out."

Tony gave Steve a rare smile, then he was gone. Steve heard all the words Tony said, but they weren't quite sinking in. He listened to Tony's footsteps as he walked out, replaying their conversation over and over, but it was a while before he could finally think straight enough to follow.

*****

Peter sat on the couch, staring at his phone screen as he hit the call button for the fifth time since the meeting ended. The call went straight to voicemail and Peter rested his chin in his hand. Why wasn't Ned answering?

After hearing the Detectives spoke to Ned and MJ, he realized that they hadn't talked to him in almost three days. That wasn't too unusual before he stopped going to school, but they'd been checking in with him at least every other day since he'd been pulled out. Peter rubbed his fingers anxiously against his lips as he tapped out another message to his two friends.

"Everything okay?" Natasha asked.

Natasha was looking at him worriedly from where she stood by the other end of the couch.

"Uhm-yeah. Everything's..." Peter started. Realizing it was stupid to lie, he sighed, holding up his phone. "I don't know, actually. My friends aren't picking up. The detective said they spoke them, but they didn't-they didn't even tell me."

"I'm sure they're fine. Maybe they're busy."

Peter frowned. "Maybe."

"Your friends love you. They probably have a good reason for not telling you."

"I know. I know that. That's why I'm freaking out. They would never keep something like that from me What if something happened to them? What if Hydra took them?"

Natasha, apparently having heard enough, pulled out her own phone, dialing in a number. It rang a few times, and she settled on the couch. "Hey, Happy. Can you swing by Peter's friend Ned's house and check in on him? Yes, it's important. Just check if he's there and if he is let him know Peter is trying to get a hold of him. Let us know when you leave. Okay. Thank you, Happy."

Natasha hung up the phone, putting an arm around Peter. "There. Now hopefully we can knock one thing off of our list of things to worry about."

"Thanks, Nat," Peter said, seriously. 

“Anything for you, паучок,” She said, nudging her foot against his. 

******

Bucky put the spoon down when he heard Steve's front door open. Bucky's bag was sitting by his door, and the smell of pasta lingered in the air. Steve raised a brow at Bucky, who was standing over a skillet filled with Alfredo, spinach, tomatoes, garlic and olive oil, his hair tied into a messy bun on top of his head.

"What's all this?" Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged, nonchalantly. "Figured you might wanna do something different for dinner."

Steve smiled brightly, and sat at his small round table. "You haven't cooked in a while."

"Hasn't been much need to now that we eat on the communal floor again." Bucky put a lid on the skillet and strode over to the table, taking the seat across from Steve.

"Well, it smells amazing."

"Thanks. I made enough for Sam and Clint too, so they might come by later."

Steve felt slightly disappointed by the shortened roster, but didn't comment on it. Peter did say he, Bruce, Tony, and Natasha were already planning on eating dinner together. "Okay. They're always welcome."

"Remember when I first tried to teach you how to cook?"

Steve rolled his eyes, but humored Bucky. "You mean do I remember nearly burning your house down?"

Bucky snorted. "Yeah. Momma and Beck came home, asked why the house smelled like smoke. You got all defensive, trying to say it wasn't that bad."

"Smoke adds flavor," Steve recalled with a grin.

"Definitely glad you got better," Bucky said, groaning as he put his arm around the back of his chair. “So what did Tony want?"

Steve hesitated but couldn't bring himself to lie under Bucky's curious gaze. "He wanted to talk to me about Peter."

Bucky didn't look surprised. "I figured. So how're you gunna tell him? I mean, I'm sure it'll be hard since he's attached to you like a leech. Hell. Maybe you should make Natasha tell him. She's good at damage control."

Steve's chin raised a fraction. "What are you talking about?"

Bucky's gaze became appraising. "He told you to let Peter down easy, right? Tony wouldn't want you breakin' the kid."

"Wait. Did you know Peter liked me?" Steve asked. Why hadn't he mentioned this before?

Bucky laughed humorlessly. "Of course I did.”

Steve stared at him blankly. 

“I think everyone did. That's why I told you to be careful. He's had the hots for you since the beginning. I just didn't expect you to become such good friends with him. Especially since he's _just a kid_."

Bucky raised a brow as he quoted the words Steve protested their friendship with before. Steve winced at the phrasing, remembering the look on Peter's face when he'd called him a kid earlier that day. He didn't realize how patronizing it sounded until he heard someone else say it.

"He's young," Steve said carefully. "But he's more than that. He's brave and strong. He's easy to talk to and he's a good friend."

Bucky squinted as if he were questioning Steve's sanity. "I get that you're taking him under your wing. You see a broken kid with issues and you want to fix him, but I told you not to get too close."

"A broken kid with issues?" Steve asked, his voice cutting, sounding much more severe than even he expected. "I'm not trying to fix him, Buck. There's nothing to fix."

Bucky scoffed. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. You've always been that way. You were with me. Tony. Natasha. It isn't a stretch to think you'd do it for someone who could be Hydra, especially if you think you can change him."

"Why are you saying this? I thought you liked Peter," Steve demanded.

"Why are you getting so mad?" Bucky shot back. "You're the one who put yourself in this situation."

"I'm mad because you're being a damn bully! Peter has never done anything to you."

"Because I'm being honest?"

Steve shot up from the table, the chair he was sitting in screeching across the floor.

"Stop, Buck!" Steve's hands tightened into a fist, his blood boiling hot. "Just stop. You always do this."

Bucky quirked his head, shouting back incredulously. "Do what?"

"This! You act like you know what I'm thinking, what's best for me. You don't listen to anything I say," Steve shouted.

Bucky scoffed, and walked over to the stove, pulling off the food before turning to glare at Steve. "What the hell are you on about?"

"You know what I'm 'on about'! You would give your life for me but you can't ever leave well enough alone. You can't just let me have someone in my life without-without dissecting it."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Bucky asked, incredulously

"You knew how I felt about Peggy. You knew that she cared about me, and you flirted with her every chance you got."

Steve gritted his teeth, remembering that night at the bar when for the first time in his life, he felt like someone besides Bucky cared about him for who he was. It was amazing. Peggy knew who he was before the serum, she knew how clueless he was in love, yet she still chose to follow him, to stand at his side or die trying. When she finally expressed that, it should have been the perfect moment. They should have flirted, bantered back and forth until sunrise, drinking and smiling and enjoying what little time they had together. It should have been just Steve, Peggy, and the music.

_"I might even, when this is all over, go dancing."_

_"Then what are we waiting for."_

It should have been him.

Bucky could have had any girl in the bar that night. He was the type that could slide into a booth with strangers and had them eating from the palm of his hand in minutes, but he didn't do that. He told Steve how he would follow that skinny kid from Brooklyn, then turned around and tried to make a pass at Peggy. Peggy didn't entertain him or flirt back, but Steve never forgot that moment, no matter how hard he tried.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "What does that have to do with anything? You're being dramatic."

"No, you're being a jerk!"

"Peggy's gone, Steve! She's been dead for months!"

Steve surged forward to throw Bucky into the wall, making Bucky huff in pain, the pans in the cabinet ratting together. He ground his teeth, feeling his own anger beginning to rear its head. Maybe pressing Steve wasn't a good idea.

"It wasn't just Peggy! Anytime I showed interest in anyone you just had to swoop in. Peggy was just the only one that mattered."

"Oh save it, Stevie." Bucky gripped Steve's hands, throwing them off his shoulders. "Nat tried to set you up with a new girl every week and you barely bat an eye. Back then, I was always setting you up with girls!"

"No, you were always pulling me along on stupid double dates, ones that I never once showed interest in!"

"How was I supposed to know, huh? I thought you were just stubborn!"

"You knew. You just didn't care. Just like with Peggy."

"Enough about Peggy!" Bucky pushed Steve backwards, but Steve quickly gained back his ground. "I made one stupid comment. You think I'd just to take her away, knowing you liked her? That I was just trying to pick out girls to make you happy just so I could rip them away again?"

Steve tsked.

"Isn't that the point, Buck? Peggy wasn't someone YOU picked for me. Neither is..." Steve stopped himself, not willing to bring Peter into this. Not until he thought his feelings through. Steve frowned, turning his head away with a scowl. "You only wanted me to have what you gave me. What you allowed me to have."

"That's bullshit!" Bucky yelled back, pushing Steve backward again. Steve stumbled further this time, a small, hurt look on his face. Bucky winced apologetically and pushed his hair out of his face, his voice lowering. "That's bullshit and you know it. I didn't make you crash into the ice. You would've been happy with her. You and her-that's not on me."

Steve gaped at him, and he didn't even try to make a move forward. Steve always stepped forward. The space between them felt more hollow and empty than Bucky anticipated. Even still, the words didn't stop coming.

"You want someone to blame for never getting involved with people? It's you. You're so stuck on everything you've lost, you push everyone away but me. Even Tony. You didn't have to fight with me in Siberia. But you were so scared you'd lose me, the only thing you had left from then that you hurt the one person who needed you as much as you needed him. You're the one who sabotages yourself."

They stared at each other in silence, Bucky's heavy breathing the only sound in the entire floor.

"Maybe you're right," Steve said, his voice croaking as he laughed dryly. "Maybe I do sabotage myself. What I don't understand though, is why you care about Peter. If you don't-If you don't care for me, why do you care who I'm friends with?"

Is that what Steve honestly thought, after everything? That Bucky didn't care about him? Bucky's face softened.

"Dumbass. You're my best friend. Of course I care about you."

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No I-" Bucky stopped, tensing. "Care for you what way?"

"You have to know," Steve said, his eyes starting redden around the edges. "You have to know that I'm-that I..you know, that I care about you. If you know about Peter, if you could tell in such a short time that he liked me, you had to know. If you didn't, you wouldn't care about us getting close."

"He's hydra," Bucky whipped out, his face devoid of color. "I just don't trust him."

"So it's not because you know that I-I like men. And now we know that Peter is gay. You're saying that if-if I cared for him too, that you would be okay with that?"

Bucky didn't move. Couldn't. For someone who was once so good with words, he couldn't seem to find any. Steve...liked men. Stevie. His best friend. Was Bucky surprised? Is that he was feeling?

No. No, Bucky had entertained the idea that maybe Steve liked boys when they were younger, but it never bothered him then. That was just Steve. No matter how pretty, Steve just wasn't interested in women. Steve said it was because no women would ever be interested in him, but deep down Bucky knew that wasn't the reason.

The first sign that maybe he was wrong was with Peggy. It was bizarre. At first he thought Steve was only pretending, trying to fit in with the rest of the troops but the first time he saw them together, he realized Steve truly loved her. It was a surprise, but not a bad one. It was just different. A new normal. Steve was interested in women. The moment Steve finally believed he was worth loving, he found a woman who saw the man beneath the bulk, the one who admired him even without all of that, and if life had been fair, they would've gotten married and had children. It was the new life Bucky pictured for him.

To find out he was right all along was more jarring than expected. What did it mean though?

Steve watched Bucky with trepidation, masking it poorly with residual anger. His eyebrows were pulled together in frustration, but the watery glint in his eye exposed his fear, his vulnerability. His fists were balled at his side, but only to keep himself grounded.

Bucky wasn't sure what to say. Steve was only person Bucky has ever fully trusted with his life. The person he turned to time after time when he felt too small, too weak to help take care of his four sisters as teens. The person he looked up to because he fought every day just to survive, then when he found the strength fought for the lives of others. Bucky loved Steve more than anyone.

"Regardless of what you think, I do care about you. So do what you want," he said finally, his voice harsh but unsteady. "But don't forget what I said. If he's Hydra, I won't hesitate. Not even for you, Stevie."

Steve felt his heart shatter under the weight of years of false hope, disappointment pooling in his chest. Bucky turned his back on Steve, all thought of food forgotten, and stormed out, leaving Steve to stew in his feelings alone.

****

Peter felt better knowing that Ned and MJ were apparently grounded for having to be escorted to the police station. They refused to answer the detective's questions, which led to their parents getting involved, and they presumably weren't pleased. Ned did write Peter a letter though, assuring him everything was okay despite him and MJ freaking out about Steven being missing. He had lots of questions that Peter couldn't answer, but he wrote Ned back anyway, doing his best to dispel his friend's fears.

Still, Peter couldn't shake this feeling that something was looming over them. It felt as real to him as his Spidey-sense, but different. After hastily shoveling down dinner, he went to his room, going over transcripts of information Goggles procured. He'd already been over them a dozen times, but he knew he was missing something. He had to be. Something just wasn't adding up.

Around 8, he finally gave up on trying to sort through everything. There was too much on his mind, and too little proof information to go off of. He pushed it to the back of his mind, attributing the feeling to the stress of the day and headed to the training room to burn off some energy.

Clint caught him on his way back down to the lab, carrying two big tumblers of coffee.

"Hey, kid. Where are you headed?" He asked.

"Training room," Peter answered, holding up his own water bottle. "What about you?"

"My fellow bird accomplice asked for my help looking through some files," Clint answered. "Where are the guys? Don't they usually go down with you?"

"Not sure," Peter said. There was an uncertain lilt in the question, and Clint shifted on his feet.

"I wouldn't worry about it. They're probably just busy preparing for tomorrow."

"Yeah. Yeah. No, you're probably right."

After Natasha told Peter that Steve and Bucky weren't going to work out at dinner, he couldn't help but overthink it. Was it a coincidence that Steve wasn't able to work out with him right after he found out Peter was gay? What if he realized that Peter liked him and it freaked him out? Peter shook his head. Maybe Steve was just busy preparing to leave. It made sense, but Peter couldn't help but feel that something happened. Whatever it was, he didn't like not knowing.

"Why don't you come down with me?" Clint asked, sensing the tension radiating off of Peter. "We could always use another set of eyes."

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not," Clint grinned. "Gets me out of working."

Clint pressed the button in the elevator, and Peter gave him a confused look. He didn't recognize the floor number. He knew he hasn't been everywhere in the Tower, far from it, but since they were going to be working with Sam he figured they would be working in either the meeting room or the communal floor.

Clint didn't bother knocking when he made it to the door. It was as if he lived there himself, somewhere he felt comfortable enough being that he didn't feign politeness, not that Clint was usually the type anyway.

As soon as Peter stepped inside, he knew it was Steve's floor. The colors were typical for the Tower, but there was something about it that seemed wholly Steve, like it had been designed by him. Everything was clean and tidy, the books on the shelves organized according to size, the dishes cleaned and put away. There was a shoe rack by the door, and it seemed more organized than even Peter expected.

Yet, there were personal touches that made it felt homey in a way most spaces in the tower didn't. The furniture looked more like something you would find in a normal house instead of a magazine, for one. Steve's jacket hung on the back of his favorite chair in the living room, right by the door in case he needed it on the way out. Paintings, presumably his own, decorated the walls. A large, grainy photograph with tattered edges of his army buddies hung by the door in an expensive frame. A blanket sat crumpled in a ball on the couch.

"Did you grab my coffee?" Sam called from the kitchen.

"Yes, yes. I've got it, grouchy," Clint replied. "I've got another set of eyes for you too."

Sam's eyes shot up and he smiled. "Hey kid. You ever look through surveys before?"

******

Steve could hear the flow of conversation as he walked down the hall to his apartment. His brows furrowed. He hadn't expected anyone to be in his room. It was a little past 10 PM, and he was covered in sweat. All he wanted was a shower and sleep. He didn't want to think or talk or play nice. He huffed out a agitated breath and opened his door.

"-can get really complicated, so it's important that you understand the basics of the equation."

Steve quirked his head. Out of all the voices he expected he might hear, Peter's was dead last, which only confused him more when the next voice spoke.

"I think I've got it. Emphasis on think," a young female voice replied.

"Okay. Just take what I said, and explain it back to me."

"You basically said I have to square the first number, double the-the product of both numbers, square the second number, then add the three answers all together. Right?"

When Peter came in to view, he was standing next to a white board in the center of the living room, a black marker in his hand. Sam and Clint were on the couches, and had obviously made themselves at home. Snack packages littered the table, and paper stacks lined the cushions. Clint didn't even notice Steve came in, seeming transfixed, watching Peter and his daughter fondly. Sam gave Steve a quick wave, then returned to leafing through papers, marking tallies on a clipboard.

Steve stood in the doorway, more than a little confused, and if he was honest, frustrated. He debated on stepping back out, but where else would he go? His exhaustion won over, stepping inside and quietly shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah," Peter laughed enthusiastically, clapping his hands together. "Exactly. So what would (2+3)^2 be?"

Lila gave Peter a look over the TV screen, pushing her long brown hair out of her face. "I doubt something that easy is going to be on my algebra test."

"Fair, but you need to get the basics down first. Come on. Work it and let me know what you get."

Steve slipped on to the couch beside Clint.

"Math?" He asked quietly, not turning his eyes away from them.

Clint huffed. "Yeah. She called in the middle of us helping Sam. I was trying to help her when Peter saw what we she was working on and took over. Good thing too. I was about ready to blow my brains out."

"Not a math guy?" Steve asked.

"Not a teaching guy," Clint corrected. "Peter's a natural."

Lila's head popped back up, drawing their attention back to the front. "I got 25."

"Perfect," Peter said, popping the lid off the marker. He carefully wrote out the equation, explaining as he worked each step. "Two squared is four, 2x3 doubled is 12, and 3 squared is nine. Add the three numbers together and you have 25."

Lila grinned, showing off a mouth full of braces. "Can we try a harder one?"

"Sure. You ready to write it down?"

"He's a pretty good kid," Clint said, bumping into Steve's shoulder. "I think you're rubbing off on him."

Steve exhaled through his nose, a small smile on his face. "I don't think I have anything to do with it."

They continued on like that for about thirty more minutes, Peter checking a few of Lila's math problems as she worked on them before feeling comfortable enough to let her finish on her own. Steve eventually caught himself asking questions, much to Peter's delight. Peter handed Steve some paper and they knocked out her questions one by one. By the time they were finishing up, Steve realized he wasn't even mad anymore.

"Those are actually kind of fun," Steve said.

"Who knew, right?" Lila said, rolling her eyes. "Maybe it wouldn't suck so much if I wasn't being forced to do it against my will."

"That tends to put a damper on things," Steve agreed.

"Maybe Peter will turn you into a big nerd yet," Clint declared.

"Dream on, but thanks for the help anyway, Peter," Lila said, putting her books into her backpack. "You're the best. I swear my teacher talks alien or something."

"I get that. Trust me. You can ask for help any time."

Clint put an approving hand on Peter's shoulder. "Alright, Liles. As fun as that was, were about ready to go to bed here. Tell everyone I love them. I'll call you guys before I leave tomorrow."

"Okay. I love you dad. Be safe."

"Love you too."

The call ended, and Clint grabbed his snack wrappers, shoving them in his pocket. "You all finished up, Sam?"

"Thanks to you and Peter," he said, appreciatively. "Now I can hand over this sheet and the psychologist can go over the results during individual meetings while I'm gone."

"What were you working on?" Steve asked.

"Just some surveys I gave to some of the people down at the VA," Sam answered, putting his pencils in his bag.

"It was interesting," Peter said to Steve. "You should look at them. I've never taken a personality test before."

"You should. It's always easier to to relate to others if you know yourself," Sam explained. "Teaching people how to utilize their strengths and work on their weaknesses, learning their love language, discovering what they want-it's all a part of gaining control over your life and your relationships. That's all the people of the VA want."

Peter listened intently as Sam spoke, nodding along. "All anyone wants. I bet you help a lot of people."

Sam hit Peter gently on the head with his stack of papers. "That's the idea."

"We should head out," said Clint. "We have an early morning ahead of us. You ready kid?"

"Sure. Yeah. Just let me grab my phone," Peter said.

Steve all but tripped over himself to step in front of Peter. 

"Actually, can I talk to you for a minute? I'll send him up soon," Steve said to Clint.

Clint shrugged. "Not my kid. He can do what he wants."

Peter huffed. "Thanks. I appreciate the permission."

Steve and Peter walked with Sam and Clint to the door and said their goodnights. They watched as they walked to the elevator, then Steve shut the door, looking a little flustered.

"So. Hey."

"Hey," Peter echoed with a laugh. He looked over Steve's outfit. "Wait, I thought you weren't working out tonight."

Steve quirked his head to the side.

"Natasha told me you and Bucky were busy," Peter explained.

"Oh," Steve said, but he didn't look any less confused.

"Yeah," Peter stretched out the word, a little uncomfortably, putting his thumb in his back pocket. "So did you want to talk?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Steve said. "We haven't talked since the Detectives questioned you."

"I'm fine," Peter assured him. "What about you?"

"Me?" Steve bristled.

"Yeah, you," Peter laughed. "You didn't look very happy when you came in."

Steve's mouth opened, then he closed it and nodded, a little overeager. "Oh yeah. I'm fine. Just tired, is all."

Peter appraised Steve for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"I'm not the one who found out the creep messing with me got hurt," Steve reminded him, as he lead Peter back to the living room. “You could have told me about that, by the way."

"I can't exactly let Captain America come beat up all my bullies," Peter said with a self-deprecating smile. "I could handle them if I needed to."

"I'm sure you could," Steve mused. "I know he didn't actually hurt you, and this may sounds bad, selfish even, but honestly, I don't even care what happened to him. I'm just glad your okay. Knowing that someone could take away your healing factor,” Steve shook his head in distaste, unable to finish. 

"Thanks," Peter said, blushing slightly at the protectiveness in his odd comment. Peter sat down, shying away from Steve's gaze, looking at his hands. "I know I should be relieved since he was probably Hydra, and he freaked me out a little, but he was still just a kid, you know? It shouldn't surprise me that they hurt him but it does."

"He wasn't useful anymore. That's how they operate," Steve said, hating the brutality of the words as they came. “I'm sorry you had to go through all of that."

"It wasn't great," Peter said. He looked up at the paintings on the wall. “Did you do all those?” 

Steve smiled up at the painting of a thin woman with blonde ringlets hanging in her face, a look of nostalgia on his face. Various pink flowers surrounded her, and her brown eyes seemed to be glowing with happiness. “Yeah. That one is of my mom.”

Peter’s eyes widened, then he looked at Steve again, his lips tugging upward as he looked over his features. “I see it. You look just like her.”

Steve grinned so wide his eyes crinkled. “Thanks. She was beautiful, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

They both stared at the picture in comfortable silence. Steve’s smile slowly faded as he wondered what his mom would have thought of Peter. She loved Bucky. She always said if it wasn’t for him, Steve probably wouldn’t have been alive. Steve wondered if he’d had Peter then if he would’ve gotten into fights at all. 

“Steve?”

Steve’s eyes shot up. 

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Steve huffed rolling his eyes. So much for deflecting. "Just tired, Queens."

Something about the look on his face seemed to pierce through him, reminded him too much of the face he'd seen in the mirror a few hours earlier and he straightened, the pieces falling into place. "Did something happen with Bucky?"

Peter realized asking was a mistake the moment he said it, Steve flinching away. 

"No. Nothing happened. It's fine, Queens."

Peter scratched the back of his neck. "Are you sure? Because if it's about Bucky-"

"It doesn't matter if it is or not," Steve snapped. "It doesn't have anything to do with you."

Peter shrunk back a little, and Steve sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. Why did he always mess things up? 

"I'm sorry. Bucky is my best friend. He's the only person in the world that I can trust. The only person who's always had my back. When we fight, it's complicated. I know you're just trying to help, but you wouldn't understand."

Peter was shocked at the words, but even more than that, he was concerned. "Okay. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But I'm here if you do."

Steve didn't immediately turn him down, so he continued. "Let me help you work through it," Peter insisted, staring at Steve intently. "That's what friends are for right?"

"I don't know," Steve said, running a hand through is hair.

"Please, Steve. I won't say anything, I just want to help."

Steve stared into Peter’s eyes, and his heart squeezed. Peter was worried. He wasn’t just saying he wanted to help, Steve could see it. 

"Okay. Just-remember I kind of started it. Bucky wasn't even mad until I started pushing him around."

Peter agreed, listening reverently as Steve sifted through pieces of their argument, careful to leave out what started it and Tony. Peter's brows stayed furrowed in concentration, really looking like he was working to absorb every word. When Steve finally finished, he looked slightly distressed again, but Peter surprised him by laughing self-deprecatingly.

Steve was a little offended by Peter's reaction. "Why are you laughing?"

"Have you ever heard of projection?"

Steve nodded, his face still pinched. "Yeah, it's a psychology term. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Bucky wasn't mad at you. He probably thought he was, maybe wanted to be, but all that stuff he said about not letting people in? He was projecting his insecurities on to you."

Steve shifted closer, but didn't look convinced. "How do you know?"

Peter shrugged. "He's been in therapy. A revelation like that doesn't come to people on their own.”

”Sounds like you know that from experience,” Steve commented.

Peter shrugged. “I had to go to therapy for a while, but this isn’t about me.”

“Sorry. Continue.” 

”Its fine. Just a story for another time. Anyway, Bucky seems to be realizing things about himself, and even if they apply to you too, he came to the conclusions about himself first. Everything he said was stuff he’s probably already thought about himself a million times."

"That doesn't make sense."

Peter had to give him that one. "A lot of things we do don't make sense, but I know I'm right on this one. Look at his friend circle. He has you, Nat, Sam, Clint. Natasha keeps her distance. No matter how much she loves you, she never opens up about herself, and it's the same with Bucky. Their relationship has a preordained limit that makes Bucky comfortable. With Sam, he tends to be pick on him almost to the point of being mean to hide just how much he cares about him. Clint is gone most of the time, and when he's here? Bucky tends to either avoid him or treat him the same way he treats Sam. You're the only person he trusts not to let anything keep you apart. Not even death."

Steve didn't look comforted by the explanation. Realizing that Bucky was isolating himself only made him regret admitting his feelings more. He was the only person Bucky could count on, and now he may have ruined everything. Stabbing guilt contorted his features and he turned away from Peter. 

"I’m sorry. You should go," He said. "Thank you for listening, but I don't-I can't really think right now." 

Just like that a wall that Peter had been denying was there finally fell into place. He knew that Steve and Bucky had complicated feelings between them, but he never expected Steve to act like this. Steve was always so strong and kind. It made Peter feel too many conflicting emotions. Worried that Steve was hurting. Upset that he didn't know how to help. Lost. Maybe a little jealous..? No. Not jealous. That would stupid and petty and just-

Completely true.

Peter didn’t move from his spot in the couch. Steve was busying himself to avoid him, putting away Sam and Clint’s cups, then the white board, sliding it back into its spot. Even after he was done, he stayed turned, still as a statue.

Peter wanted to help. Needed to. He tapped anxiously on his knee.

"You know, I uh. I read about this liquid called perfluorocarbon over spring break last year," Peter started.

Steve's hard stance softened a little, but Peter wasn't sure if it was in disappointment from being dismissed or if he just couldn't hold on to his intense feelings. It was probably a mix of the two. Peter waited, and after a moment, Steve turned to peek over at him, quirking a brow.

"Perfluro-what?"

Peter was always saying words that didn't mean anything to him. Steve knew he wasn't dumb, but sometimes he felt that way, constantly being surrounded by modern geniuses. Between Stark, Banner and now Peter, he was sure that trying to stay in the know on the technical side of missions was going to prove difficult. Whatever it was Peter was talking about, it was quite the conversation change.

Peter licked his bottom lip nervously, nodding to himself, urging himself on. "Perfluorocarbon. There are a lot of things that scientist hypothesize it could be used for. There are a few big things like helping kids with breathing problems, or space travel to reduce G-Force. They also think it would be beneficial in diving too, for reducing decompression sickness, but there's a whole slew of issues with that one."

Steve looked even more confused than before. Peter reined himself back in. He wasn't trying to give Steve a science lesson or convince him to invest in a project. He willed himself to get to the point, twisting his hands, letting the words roll from his mouth.

"None of that's really important, though. So basically, because this liquid has such a high solubility for respiratory gases, you can actually breathe it if you're completely submerged in it. It's called liquid ventilation."

"So-You can breathe underwater?" Steve asked, his interest peaked. That didn't even sound possible. It sounded like something from science fiction. To be fair, though, he felt that way about a lot of things that he's seen and heard from this time. Steve seemed to forget his anger, stepping over to join Peter. Peter excitedly scooted over, allowing Steve to take a seat beside him.

"Well, not water, but yeah. Basically."

"Huh. I can't imagine that," Steve said, brows furrowed. He settled down, resting his elbows on his knees. His mind flitted to the day he crashed into the ice, water flooding the plane while he tried desperately to hold on to consciousness. He shivered partly from the phantom cold, and partly from the memory itself. It definitely wasn't one of his favorites.

"Yeah, but uhm. The whole reason I even found out about it was from some post that I found on Reddit or StarkLink. It claimed that people, or the government, I'm not really sure, supposedly use it as some kind of torture method to get information from people, like extreme water boarding or something. They put them in a vat and slowly fill it up, making the victim think they are going to drown. They have to watch helplessly as it fills and they start to panic and fight. They hold their breath until they feel like their lungs are on fire and their head will explode.

"I'm sure once they finally breathe and the liquid rushes into their lungs, it probably hurts at first, but apparently once your lungs are full, you're physically fine. Even if that's true, it's a natural reaction to freak out if you are being submerged in anything so no matter how many times it happens, no matter if you know you're going to be fine, the fear stays the same."

Peter realized he'd gotten away with himself when Steve was staring at him with a slightly horrified expression.

"Anyway, apparently when they decide to pull them out, it's super painful. They have to choke and spill all the liquid from their lungs until they can breathe properly again. If they don't get what they want at that point, they just put the victim back in and do it all over again."

"That's..." Steve looked at Peter uneasily, not really sure where he was going with this. "I'm sorry, am I missing the lesson here?"

Peter finally looked Steve in the eyes, his concerned face reflecting in the beautiful, pale blue Peter had been dreaming about for weeks now. It was amazing how many beautiful things that color could create. Butane burning under a beaker, forget-me-nots, the sky overlooking the ocean. Peter's favorite colors used to be those of his suit, but now he knew that if he lost all sense of color, he would be okay as long as he could still see the blue of Steve's eyes.

Peter sighed, frustrated with himself. It shouldn't be this hard to talk to Steve, not when everything else came so easily with them.

"When you woke up, everyone around you was gone. The plane crash changed everything for you. The places, the people, society, expectations, technology, relationships," Peter could feel the air get heavier between them with the last word but he powered through it.

"You were drowning in isolation but you thought you were okay because you were still alive, still breathing, right? Or maybe you just pretended you were okay, but either way. It may not have been unbearable or constantly painful, but it was obvious you were still drowning." Peter looked down at his hands, frowning.

"Then Bucky came back and you worked so hard to find him, willing to do anything to get that breath of fresh air, that familiarity, the normalcy. He came back, and he pulled you out. For the first time in probably, I don't know how long, really, you had a piece of the past that let you feel whole again, right? So you're finally breathing air again, and it hurts but you're out of that artificial state of being, back to being who you really were. It was more painful, but you were able to heal and move forward. Start living in the now, instead of in the past."

Peter could feel Steve's eyes on him, searching his face, but he couldn't think about it. If he pictured his expression, what he could be thinking, he wouldn't be able to finish. Instead, his face flushed with anxious heat and he turned away, his trembling hands moving with his words, unable to keep them still.

"Bucky was-is your lifeline, your connection between two very different lives. Nobody can compare their friendship to you to the one that you and Bucky have. Like you said, it wouldn't be the same. Kind of like me and Ned. There's just too much history there. Literally for you two," Peter chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, but his smile quickly melted away to a grimace. "We all know we can't be what he is to you. It's not-It's not like we would even try, you know, because that would be wrong. But just because things aren't going great between you two right now, doesn't mean you have to go back into the vat. Just because you two are fighting, doesn't mean you have to be alone. You have people who care about you and want to be a part of your life, you just gotta, you know, not throw yourself back in the vat."

Peter finished strongly, and silence stretched between them. Peter didn't break it. He didn't even look over at Steve, despite the urge to know what he was thinking. He worried for a moment that he went too far. Who was he to compare his friendship to being pulled from a torture chamber? It sounded ridiculous, now. He wasn't even really sure if anything he said made sense. It's like his mouth just took what he was thinking and spilled it out, not pausing to wonder if what he said was offensive or stupid. He just couldn't stand the thought that Steve was hurting. All he knew was that he would do anything to keep that deep hurt off of his face, no matter what it took. He didn't really want to analyze that more than he had to right now, so he shoved the complicated thoughts to the back.

He wondered if he should leave. He wanted Steve to have the space to think, but didn't want him to be alone with his thoughts either. Steve went from being one of his heroes, to his enemy (albeit temporarily), his teammate, then his friend. It was a bumpy ride, but getting to know Steve, getting to be in his friend was something that Peter never thought he would get to have. He didn't even know he wanted it until he got a glimpse of his life with Steve in it. Now that he did though, he just wanted Steve to be happy, and he knew that in this moment, Steve wasn't.

Steve didn't know what any of this meant. He understood what Peter was saying, but what did it mean that it was coming from Peter? He always knew that Peter was smart, with all of his gizmos and gadgets that he helped Tony with, but he never expected this of all things to happen. The kid just read him like a book, simultaneously tearing out all of his pages as he went. Not Bucky. Not Natasha. Not Clint. Not Tony. Seventeen year old Peter Parker. He felt like his blood turned into sandpaper, rubbing him raw from the inside, like even the softest touch would ache to his bones. Yet, he couldn't help but notice a warmth in his chest. Warmth he hadn't really felt since he went into the ice.

That wasn't true. Most days, Bucky made him feel warm too, but it was different. Bucky was like a hearth. He was home, and fierce heat against frozen fingers. He was intense fire and calm nights in. Peter was different. He was warm jackets, hot cocoa, and creamy tomato soup. Peter seemed to envelope him and fill him with warmth in a way he didn't realize he needed. They were both beautiful and wonderful, but different.

He couldn't ever imagine him and Bucky having the conversation that he and Peter just had. Peter was bright and open, almost dangerously so, where Bucky was snarky and reserved. Bucky he knew how to deal with, but Peter...not so much. Responding to people didn't come as easy to him as drawing people out. Having the tables flipped was jostling to say the least.

Steve's eyes were trained on the opposite wall, hoping to be able to pin even one of his thoughts as they rushed like roaring waters through his mind. Peter was his friend, and it felt nice to know that Peter cared about him. That was all that mattered, wasn't it?

"Thanks for not leaving," he settled with after a while, his voice softer than Peter ever expected. It wasn't much and it wasn't what Steve really wanted to say, but it was enough.

Peter looked up at him, smiling warmly and Steve felt the action mirror on his face.

"I owe you after getting so mad earlier today."

"Rightfully so," Steve admitted. "I'm sorry about that. I just need to know you're safe. You know that right? I know what Hydra does to the people they want. Nobody deserves that."

Peter nodded, even if it was only half-true. How could Steve let his friends go but not him? That was an argument for another time. They'd reached their quota for the day. "I don't like it, but I understand."

Steve relaxed into the couch, and as faint as the smile on his face was, Peter took it as a victory. He sighed, relieved but still a little concerned. Steve was smiling again. Things should be better, yet things didn't feel totally resolved.

"You should talk to him. Bucky."

"I'm not sure he wants to talk," Steve said, looking down at his intertwined hands.

Peter leaned his head on Steve's shoulder, trying to make it seem casual despite the instant flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

Steve looked down at him, Peter's curled hair falling into his face, his body seeming to fit perfectly next to his and his heart seemed to skip a beat.

"He cares about you a lot. He wouldn't worry about you the way he does if he didn't," Peter insisted.

Steve knew Bucky cared about him, and he always thought that friendship with him was enough, but was it? Was Bucky caring for him and never being able to return his feelings ever going to feel enough?

Steve hesitated for a moment, staring at Peter's downcast face and twiddling fingers, then caved and leaned his head against Peter's. He smiled at the faint smell of shampoo and coffee, finding it much more endearing than he should.

Peter knew he was enjoying the friendly contact way too much, but wasn't willing to make himself think hard enough to care. He laced his arm through Steve's, gripping on to his bicep, making both of them more comfortable and pulling them closer together.

"I'll talk to him. I just don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"I guess just tell him the truth. Tell him that you care about him too much to let an argument like that come between you. I don't know him as well as you do, but that sounds like a good place to start."

Steve wondered if Peter would be this nice if he knew that they were arguing about him. Of course he wouldn't, his mind supplied. He would be mortified. Steve hated the pain that lanced through his chest at the thought of Peter hearing what Bucky said.

"You love him, right?"

If someone had asked a few weeks, even a few days before, Steve may have argued a bit, tried to deny his feelings out of fear of rejection or pity, but now he hesitated for a different reason. He did love Bucky and he always would. He would give anything to have that love returned in the same way. Yet, even as he thought it, he noticed there was something different about the thought. The edge, usually sharp as a razor, was dull. It still hurt, but being around Peter seemed to make everything better.

"I do."

Peter was glad Steve couldn't see his face. He wasn't sure he would have been able to force a smile. He patted Steve on the leg twice. "He's lucky."

Steve looked at the ceiling, willing away the pressure building behind his eyes. "He doesn't seem to think so."

To say Peter was surprised at the implication was an understatement. Steve admitting his feelings to Bucky..that was huge. Peter couldn't help but wonder if it was his fault Steve was going through all this. He cleared his throat. 

"Hes lucky," Peter repeated, more strongly this time. "Even if he says he doesn't return your feelings, he knows that. To be loved by you is something to be proud of."

He wanted to comfort Steve more than that, but how could he tell Steve he understood without explaining that it was Steve that was breaking his heart?

"I appreciate you thinking so," Steve chuckled. "I'm glad someone does."

Peter just laid there until the mix of Steve's heat and the heat from his mangled emotions threatened to burn him up. When he couldn't take it anymore, he yawned, probably a bit too loudly, and pulled away from Steve, grabbing his opposite elbow as he stretched. "I should-I should go. It's getting pretty late. We both need to get some sleep."

Steve was disappointed, but he managed to shake it off. “Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right. I'll walk you to the door."

Peter waved him off, standing up. "It's okay. I'm sure I can find it."

"Oh. Okay," Steve said, uncertain. "I'll see you in the morning then?"

"Yep. First thing." Peter grabbed his water from the bar, then turned back to Steve. "I-uhm. I'm glad we talked."

Steve gripped his knee to keep himself from reaching out and pulling Peter back. 

"Me too. Goodnight, Queens."

"Night, Brooklyn."

Steve waited until the door clicked shut before laying down on the couch, wishing he was looking up at the sky instead of the blank ceiling. A thousand words in a thousand combinations plagued his mind, shooting back and forth like a tennis ball between his conversation with Peter and his argument with Bucky. So much had happened the last 12 hours, and Steve knew with morning, it would only get more complicated. 

*****

"Buckle in, baby. We have some Hydra ass to kick."

Clint's voice came over the intercom and Bucky snorted half-heartedly. It was way too early to deal with someone so upbeat. Bucky didn't sleep much. It wouldn't matter, since he would probably get to sleep most of the way, but it didn't help his sour mood.

Saying goodbye to everyone went much like he expected. Everyone avoided talking about the mission during breakfast, like if they didn't talk about it it wasn't going to happen, then everyone said their goodbyes on the hangar. He was surprised at the awkward air between Steve and Peter, the way Peter avoided Steve during the round of hugs, but he suspected it was because they hadn't talked since the meeting. Not that he really cared.

Leaving Natasha was odd. He kept expecting her to change her mind last minute, but she never did. She gave him a few parting words in Russian, kissing his cheek before he watched the hatch shut behind him. It wasn't a feeling he wanted to feel again soon.

Bucky pulled a lever and leaned his chair back, putting his feet up on the chair in front of him. He folded his arms over his chest and just closed his eyes when someone sat down beside him. Steve settled down casually, putting his shield in front of him. Bucky side-eyed him, wondering if he had suddenly become invisible, when Steve looked up questioningly from where he was buckling his seat belt.

"What?" He asked after a moment. "Something on my face?"

Bucky raised a brow, then shook his head. "Not unless you include all that ugly."

Steve laughed airily, then adjusted his own seat. "Thanks for that. I needed it. Coffee just doesn't taste right without a little kick in the self-esteem."

"I’m sure you'll be fine Captain," Sam said, picking up Bucky's feet and throwing them to the floor. "I hope you guys got some sleep. I'm going to be exhausted if I have to sleep through your lumberjack snores."

"Sorry," Steve said, not sounding apologetic in the least. "Better luck on the flight back."

Sam groaned and Bucky rubbed his metal arm absentmindedly, trying to figure out what was happening. Steve pulled out a file and a pencil, and started reading. Steve had avoided conflict before, forgiven him faster than he expected, but this was fast even for him. Bucky studied Steve’s face for a moment, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. 

Maybe the mission wouldn't be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I don’t know.


	14. Stuff Happens: The LoveLove Chronicles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of Stark and Natasha fun!  
> Loki and Thor arrive.  
> Peter being angsty.  
> Steve and Friends on their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I haven’t edited this chapter. Like at all. I was on vacation for two weeks(don’t worry I was masked up and 6ft from anyone but family at all times) so I didn’t write a lot at one time. I’m literally just finishing the chapter, so bear with me if there are any repetitions(one of my biggest flaws in writing) or grammatical errors.
> 
> Ohhh man did I mess up🥺 I’m sorry if you were here for the 6 different chapters I posted tonight that were ALL italicized. In trying to fix my mistake, I accidentally deleted chapter 11 and all the amazing comments that went with it😭 I’m sorry but thanks for being patient with me.

Peter watched with the others as Steve, Bucky, Sam and Clint lifted off into the sky, the quinjet getting smaller and smaller by the second. It didn't take long before they disappeared altogether, too far to be visible even to Peter. The grey of the sky above them seemed so fitting, the world's colors seemingly sapped away in the early dark of morning, shadows peppering the muted colors with black. Peter rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, then turned away, the others followed shortly after. 

Everyone was quiet as they made their way to their own floors. Natasha gave Tony a quick kiss on the cheek when they made it to hers then gave Peter a quick hug. She already made a point of pushing Peter to spend the day in the lab with her and Tony during breakfast, but they were all still in their sleep clothes and decided to meet back around 9. Nobody said it, but Peter supposed everyone needed a little time to themselves before pretending they didn't just send their friends into a possible trap, too. 

When Peter stepped into his room, he stared at his bed. He could feel himself shaking, unreasonable anger making his eyes sting. For someone so smart, Peter was useless. He couldn't do anything right. Even something as easy as telling his friend goodbye got botched all to hell because he couldn't get a handle on his emotions for even an hour.

It shouldn't have mattered. He told Natasha he wouldn't let Steve's unreciprocated feelings change anything. He swore he wouldn't let his feelings get in the way of their friendship yet here he was and Steve was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. What was the use of being what he was if he couldn't even get this right? 

Peter wanted to hit something. He wanted to smash his laptop, shred his pillows, throw the lamp against the window. He wanted to yell. No. He wanted to scream. He wanted to demand the others pack their bags and follow after them, Steve's concerns be damned. But he couldn't. He sat on the edge of his bed, and closed his eyes, elbows on his knees and hands knotted in his hair. 

He was already playing over the morning, dissecting how things went, what he should have done differently. He wished he could blame the way he acted around Steve on being tired, but the truth was, he didn't know how to be what he was before.

Knowing there was no chance with Steve acted like a rift between Peter and his feelings. He knew they were there, but he could distance himself from them. It made everything easier. He could see Steve, admire his endless talents and leadership, and spend time with him without feeling like his world would implode. 

After last night, the rift was gone. The world had shifted and he felt them all full force; the good, the bad and the agonizing. He wasn't sure what triggered the change, but he knew there was no going back. Where he wanted to keep them buried and hidden before, it took everything in him to stifle the part of him that wanted to pull Steve aside and tell him how much he cared about him. That part of him didn't care if his feelings were returned, he just needed them known, but the other part of him knew that would only make things worse. 

_You love him, right?_

_I do._

The words played over and over in his head, taunting him, tainting the memory of everything that lead up to them. Remembering the way Steve's arm interlocked with his didn't make him smile, it made him feel sick. Thinking of his laugh, the way he smiled, all of it was just too much. Peter managed to eat breakfast with everyone just fine, but by the time they said their goodbyes, Peter couldn't even look at Steve, much less touch him.

He was torn between two completely opposing views of Steve, and he didn’t know which one to let win. 

Peter looked up at the picture of May from the newspaper on his desk. He stared at it for a long time, then stood, walking over and plucking it from its spot. The picture was old, and the way her hair was pulled back out of her face made her look even younger, but she still looked like his May. Big glasses sat on the edge of her nose, and she held up a certificate next to the other nurses in her station. 

From the day Uncle Ben met her at his favorite cafe near the hospital May worked at, he knew she was the one. Out of nowhere, a woman he'd never seen before dropped from the sky and into his usual booth. He couldn't even bring himself to be mad, especially when he saw she was reading a book from his favorite author, shoveling a chocolate scone by the window as if scared it might be taken if she ate too slow, chocolatey crumbs sticking to her fingers. He watched her, fawning over the way she spoke and laughed animatedly with the waiter, but he knew she was too beautiful, too vibrant and lively for a simple electrician like himself. He said it took him three times of seeing her that way, each time with a new book in her hands for him to work up the courage to talk to her, but it was the best decision he ever made. 

May would always say that their first interaction was an act of fate, the stars aligning for one perfect moment that lead to the perfect marriage, but Ben was a Parker, and all the Parker's knew they could never be so lucky. Their marriage wasn't an act from any outside force like fate or destiny. Marriage was work. Falling in love was work. Being a family for each other was work. The good thing about work though, you get what you give, and they were both willing to give everything to each other. 

Peter slid his fingers over the thin paper. He wished he could walk through the door and be back home. He would hear Aunt May shuffling through the house, getting ready for work. She would hug him, her cold dangly bracelets touching his cheek from how she wrapped her arms so fully around his neck and she would tell him to have a good day at school. Half-burned toaster waffles would be waiting for him on the counter, but he wouldn't care. He'd happily eat them, glad to be welcomed by her, safe and sound. But he couldn't do that. If he walked through the door again, he would be welcomed by an empty room and cold pillows.

Peter finally succumbed to the burning behind his eyes, allowing a few tears to escape. 

"I miss you guys," he whispered.

Of course, nobody answered. No May or Ben, Ned or MJ. No Steve or Clint. He took a deep shuddery breath, blowing out all the pent up frustration, and put down the picture. He wasn't alone though. Ned and MJ would be off the hook in a week. Tony and Natasha were waiting for him downstairs. Hopefully Steve and the others would be back in a few days. Not all was lost. 

Peter went to the bathroom and washed his face, knowing the clock was ticking on. 

Love was work. Peter knew he and Steve weren't like Ben and May. Their love story didn't start off with a perfect first moment, or even a one perfect moment in the first dozen moments. Yet, the memories he had with Steve were some of the happiest he ever had. 

Peter looked at himself in the mirror, water dripping down his face. He knew he shouldn't go any further with this. He should accept their friendship and be grateful for it. They both had secrets they couldn't share, and Steve was probably safer not being close to him. Fortunately, Peter wasn't as good at giving up on the few good things he had in his life as he thought. 

He wiped his face with a towel, and hurriedly threw on clothes. If there was even a chance Steve could come to care for him the same way he cared for Steve, Peter would show him that he was worth it. No matter how long it took. 

****

“You're being ridiculous, you know that right?" 

Tony slumped his shoulders, but continued pacing the length of his room. He only had about 30 minutes before he was expected to go meet Natasha and Peter down at the lab. It was only 8:45, and the day was not going great. 

Of course Rhodey would think he was being dramatic. He didn't know how often he'd thought about this over the last few years. How many times he was so close to telling Natasha how he felt for her, or how much he'd imagined having a future, hell, even a family with her. 

Was it insane that unwittingly taking in a supercharged teen was making Tony think about having children? Absolutely. He was Tony Stark. If he had kids, he would probably turn out to be as bad as Howard. Yet, the idea of tucking in his and Natasha's child together, hearing her gentle voice singing them to sleep, and Peter helping them learn how to walk invaded his dreams, when he was fortunate enough to have them. Having lunch with her and Peter was already the highlight of his day, and he didn't know what he would do without them, which only made the matter of his growing fondness for her more troublesome. But how could Rhodey possibly know that? There was a downside to not talking about his feelings, but at least he knew that now. 

"Really? Because I think I'm being appropriately cautious, and therefore highly responsible."

"C'mon man. You're acting like a 12 year old hiding away in your room, pining instead of doing his homework," Rhodey said, rolling up the window of his car and sliding on his sunglasses to ward off the slowly rising sun. Tony looked around, confused. How did Rhodey know that he was in his room? "You're a badass billionaire superhero. Pull on the big boy britches and tell her how you feel." 

"How am I supposed to do that if I don't know how she feels?" Tony asked exasperated. 

"You already know she cares about you," Rhodey said. "Peter has been telling you that for weeks, you're just too scared to listen."

"He says she likes me, yeah. That's great. But how is this different from all the other times when I thought she felt the same way?"

Rhodey had to give him that one. Even he thought for sure Natasha was falling for Tony during the Accords issues. All of the reassuring touches and whispers between the two made it seem like they were closer than ever before. To know that Natasha was on their side meant a lot to Tony; until she wasn't. 

"Tones. You're scared. I get it. After Pepper, I figured that you wouldn't even try again. It seemed kind of hopeless. I never thought you'd find someone that would be able to understand you or accept you for who you are."

Tony stopped to frown at the wall. "Uhm, is this supposed to be helping?"

"I mean, you were pretty closed off. You stopped going to parties. You weren't interested in meeting anyone new. Then you're whole thing with Natasha started, and it just clicked. You need someone who can stand beside you, not behind you or in front of you, but someone who is on your level. Natasha is that for you. She won't ever have to worry because she will be in the middle of the fray with you."

Tony collapsed onto the bed, draping his arm over his eyes. Maybe he was acting like he was twelve. "I already knew she was perfect. That was never the question."

Rhodey mulled over that for a moment, waving at the security officer as he passed. “That's the only answer I have for you, man. You'll have to get the answer you want from the source."

Tony scoffed, but he knew he was right. It was funny how fear worked. He'd been captured and tortured by terrorists, faced collapsing buildings crawling with aliens intent on destroying the world, and had to come to terms with the fact that he was slowly being poisoned by the device that saved his life, but this he didn't know how to deal with. "Okay, Platypus, but if everything crashes and burns, I'm blaming it on you." 

"So that means when everything goes right, I get all the credit," Rhodey smirked. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some overgrown toddlers to teach."

"Fine. But drive careful. Those legs took me a bit of time to get right."

"Always."

**** 

Around 11, Bruce was back on the hangar waiting anxiously, rubbing his hands together, blowing puffs of white heat in between them to ward off the cold air. It had been almost a month since he'd seen Loki. He never anticipated staying at the Tower this long, but his team needed him. As much as he would have liked being able to aid his boyfriend back in Asgard, he had obligations to his friends that he just couldn't ignore. 

Not that Loki would have asked him to. In fact, Loki was more than supportive of his decision to stay, even though Bruce could tell he missed him. That was one thing Bruce learned about Loki fairly quickly. As much as he pretended to see the idea of family with nothing but disdain, Loki understood the importance of treasuring it more than anyone. Now that he and Thor were finally on the same side, he realized the acceptance Thor tried so hard to push on to him was more rewarding than he ever expected. 

A portal finally opened about fifteen feet head of where Bruce stood, and he couldn't help but hold his breath, suddenly on edge. It wouldn't be the first time something bad came from one of those. After about five seconds, a tall figure stepped out of the light, and grinned, white predatory teeth bright in against the dark colors of his clothes. 

"Surprise," Loki purred lowly. 

Bruce moved quicker than Loki expected, throwing himself forward, causing the two to collide with each other in a tangle of limbs. The air was knocked from from Loki's lungs, but he quickly recovered and kissed the top of Bruce's head, gripping him tightly. 

"Honestly, darling," Loki mused against his hair. "You act as though you've missed me."

Bruce huffed into Loki's chest, refusing to pull away from his warmth. "You say that like you aren't squeezing me to death."

"I didn't say the feeling wasn't reciprocated," Loki pointed out. 

"Banner!" Thor boomed loudly from behind them. He was wearing his usual armor, black silver and red weaving together under gold locks. It was so unlike Loki, who chose to wear the form fitting black pea coat and green sweater Bruce bought him for Christmas, paired with black jeans, yet they still looked like they fit together somehow. As much as Bruce loved Loki's armor, there was something about seeing the man in his street clothes that made him want to pull Loki behind closed doors and rip them right off. 

Loki sighed softly, releasing Bruce, subjecting him to back to the cold, but only long enough to turn toward his brother. He wrapped his arm up around Bruce's waist and leveled Thor with a glare that went easily ignored. 

"How are you, my friend?" Thor asked, grabbing Bruce's shoulders and shaking them slightly.

"I'm good, considering. Better now that you two are here."

Loki squeezed Bruce's side softly and Bruce met his eyes adoringly.

"We wouldn't have missed it. My brother has been pining for your presence," Thor said, making Loki frown petulantly. 

"Pining is a bit of a strong word, brother," he murmured. 

"Also, I would like to see the spider child. Loki says he can walk on walls?"

Bruce nodded. "And a whole lot more."

Thor beamed at the assurance and looked around, thick brows furrowing. "Where are the rest of Earth's defenders? We are at the Tower, are we not?"

"The last I saw they were all in the lab. Rhodey will be here sometime this afternoon. There was an issue with one of his training groups," Bruce explained as he walked them through the doors to the elevator. "JARVIS can you tell everyone to meet on the communal floor?"

"Of course, Dr. Banner. Welcome back to the Tower, Gods of Thunder and Mischief."

Shortly after hearing Thor and Loki arrived, Natasha and Tony stood on either side of Peter. He breathed out heavily, working to center himself, watching the elevator climb to the communal floor. His thumb rubbed his finger anxiously, and he shifted from foot to foot, feeling like he could burst at the seams at any moment. Tony could feel his twitchiness, every movement weighing on his nerves until he finally sighed, leveling Peter with a piercing glare. 

"Are you having a seizure, kid? Do I need to call someone?"

Peter jerked, looking confused. "What? Me? No-Why?"

"You're fidgeting. You're like the world's most annoying junky," Tony explained. 

"Oh," Peter said, shrinking, pressing his hands firmly to his side. "My bad." 

Natasha raised her brow at Tony. She could tell he was having a rough day, but it wasn't like him to snap at Peter. Then again, everyone was a bit more on edge after the group left. They always worried, but this time was the first time in a long time that everyone was on good terms when they parted. Along with Tony's shortened fuse, Peter was much quieter than usual. She could tell he was doing better after their break, but he kept his head buried in homework. Tony seemed to remember that fact and sighed. 

"What is your deal, kid? Are you that nervous?"

"Uhm," Peter blanked. Was that a rhetorical question? "I-I don't know."

"You don't know if you're nervous?" Tony asked, doubtfully. 

"You don't have to worry," Natasha said. "They don't bite. They are just like the rest of us."

"Except for the accents. And hair," Tony added, smirking. "The outlandish outfits. Weird magic powers. But yeah, other than that. Totally."

"No, I mean," Peter huffed sulkily. He looked from Tony to Natasha, then whispered, his face turning red. "Do I like-bow? Should I call them something or-or use a title? Like Master Loki? Or Sir Thor? Or should I just be like, 'hey, how's it going? I'm Peter.'"

The way Peter deepened his voice at the end forced Natasha to snort.

"Yes. Absolutely. Please do that," Natasha grinned. 

"Which part?" Peter frowned. 

"All of it."

"No, god. Absolutely not," Tony said, squinting at the two of them. He shook his head and straightened the non-existent wrinkles in his tee shirt. 

"Just act normal. Normal people normal. Not-" Tony waved his hand at Peter with a grimace. "You, normal."

"Thanks," Peter murmured. "That helps."

The elevator doors opened and Peter watched as Tony and Natasha walked eagerly in front of him. He took one last steadying breath then followed, his heart thudding loudly. He stepped just far enough into the room to be visible, but his feet refused to move any further. 

"I'd say it's nice to see you, but that would take away your opportunity to say it to me," Natasha called out. 

Thor looked up from where he was speaking to Loki and Bruce and instantly held out his arms, moving forward to envelope Natasha in a hug. To Peter's surprise, she didn't shy away from it, embracing him with a familiarity that seemed strange outside of the group of people Peter knew. "Natasha. Good to see you are feisty as ever."

Tony crossed his arms, amused. "You don't know the half of it."

Thor gave Tony an equally enthusiastic grin, releasing Natasha so that he could pat Tony's arm affectionately. "Of that I have no doubts. It is good to see you both, truly.”

Loki and Bruce were at the bar, hanging back while Thor greeted the others. Peter was struck by the scene in front of him. Bruce looked calmer than he'd ever seen, not even slightly wracked with nerves, smiling softly on at his friends, Loki sitting with a similar expression quietly content beside him. Natasha and Tony greeted the literal god of thunder like a friend, because he was apparently a hugger. Crazy.

Along with being surprised, he found himself embarrassingly star struck. Iron Man was always his favorite Avenger, but he had to admit he had a soft spot for every Avenger at one point. Peter was bursting with a hundred questions, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to work his mouth even if he got the chance to. 

Nobody could deny that Loki was beautiful. He was ethereal: slender and pale, all sharp edges and pleasant contrast. He'd seen pictures and videos from everything that happened in New York, as had almost everyone else in the world, but seeing him in person was a whole 'nother experience. Sitting casually in civilian clothes, you almost wouldn't be able to recognize him-if you weren't as obsessive as Peter was. 

Where Loki was beautiful, Thor was ruggedly handsome. Between his beard and his hair, he could understand why his Aunt was such an avid fan. Not only was he attractive, he was massive. Everything about him was. His voice, his stature, his presence in itself. Bright colors and the shine of metal gleaming drew his eyes in, making him seem almost magical. 

"This must be the newest avenger," Thor said, sizing Peter up a bit, a curious look on his face. Loki shifted in his stool slightly to peer over Thor's shoulder. "Hm. Loki said you were a child but you don't seem young, even for a midguardian."

Peter gaped at him, but after a quick, not so subtle jab in the ribs from Tony, he managed to pull himself out of it and nodded weakly. "Yeah, uhm. That-that seems to be a common misconception."

"He is still a child, technically," Bruce said. 

"No I'm not. Well, actually, I guess, Yeah. But only for a little longer," Peter protested, giving Bruce a stern look. Bruce's hand lifted barely from his knee in surrender. "I'm Peter, though, by the way. Nice to meet you, Mr. Thor. Oh, and you too, Mr. Loki, sir. Bruce talks about you all the time."

Peter started to hold his hand out to shake hands about halfway through, then thought better of it. Tony rolled his eyes dramatically, but didn't comment. 

"Good to know that I was a topic of discussion," Loki said, amused. "I have heard a lot about you as well."

Peter perked up. "Really? Cool. I mean only good things, right?"

"They're pretty well caught up," Bruce said, sheepishly. 

"On everything?" Tony asked. Even if Bruce swore not to tell the others about Peter’s parents, he wasn’t sure that fact extended to Loki. Tony understood his need to tell Loki everything. He was the same with Pepper when they were together. He trusted her completely, not that he didn’t trust Natasha. When it came to Peter, though, he wasn’t willing to risk the consequences. 

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly, and studied Tony's face. The way he emphasized the words sounded like there was more to the question than they implied. Bruce gave Tony a look that only he would understand as Thor answered. 

"We have heard about the troubles Hydra has been stirring up. I am sorry to hear about your Aunt. I too have lost almost everyone I love," Thor said. 

"Here we go," Loki muttered. Bruce forced away a smile and nudged Loki softly. 

"Thanks," Peter said. As many times as people have said that to him, he still didn't know how he was supposed to respond. "I'm sorry too."

Thor gave him an appreciative nod. "It is unfortunate, though, that we are unable to ask for The Vision and Wanda's help. They would be a great help.” 

"We would if we could. Unfortunately, Hydra isn't the only group still giving us problems," Natasha said. 

"I don't know if Bruce told you, but the Accords Council was not happy we cancelled. They threatened to approve all their agendas for the summit without our input if we didn't show. My lawyers tore them to shreds, but we won't be able to post pone again. No need to give them any other ammunition," Tony said. 

"I will not pretend to understand Midguardian government," Loki said. "It seems to be even out of my realm."

"I'm just glad Bruce finally gets to see you again," Tony said, pouring several drinks. He left two on the counter for him and Natasha then carried off the other three, giving Thor his as he passed then set Bruce's and Loki's in front of them. "He is much less fun to be around when he's moping."

Bruce blushed slightly, but hid it with a scowl. "I don't mope."

"It seems we have been experiencing similar situations," Thor said amusedly, then swallowed the entire glass in a single shot. Loki picked up his drink, but drank it more casually, sipping at it politely. 

"So how are things in Asgard?" Natasha asked. "I know you've been busy."

"All is progressing well. A bit slower than we'd like," Loki said. "But well all the same."

"Asgard will be fine in our absence, though, rest assured," Thor said, confidently. "We are free to focus on protecting the Tower for as long as you need."

"Yes. As loathe as I am to admit it, they may actually get more done without us there," Loki said, purposely avoiding Thor's incredulous expression. "Things tend to lead to useless arguments when we are around to hear them."

"My brother is not wrong," Thor admitted, albeit begrudgingly. "Aiding you will give us a few days peace, in the least."

Peter didn't know exactly what Thor and Loki were so busy with, and wasn't sure he should ask, but it had to be crazy if they considered dealing with hydra stuff to be peaceful. Still, he was content just to listen, mostly just relieved to not feel Tony and Natasha's attention on him for a while. 

Peter walked over to the fridge to grab himself a drink of the non-alcoholic variety as the others caught up, until Tony announced that he needed to get some work done. 

"I should probably head down with him. You guys take some time to get settled in and catch up," Natasha said. 

"Thank you," Loki said. 

"Yes, you must be very busy. However, one should not work too hard. I think we should agree to celebrate when the rest of Earth's defenders return," Thor said.

"I'm always down for a party. Especially now that I bought these," Tony walked over to the kitchen cabinet and held up a bag of solo cups in one hand and paper plates in the other. 

Thor's face contorted with confusion, but Tony just shoved a plate in his hands. 

"You bought those?" Peter asked.

"It's a smart investment," Natasha insisted with a smirk. "Are you coming down to the lab with us?"

"No, I uh. I need to make that video for art class so I can get it submitted."

Natasha started to object, but it was Tony's turn to give her a look. As much as she didn't like it, Peter needed space. It wouldn't help anything if they kept dragging him around.

"If that's the case I can be working on the blood samples," Bruce said. 

"Seriously? Take the day off," Tony waved him off. "I'm sure I'll manage a day without you."

Bruce sighed but didn't protest, knowing it was a lost cause. Peter watched curiously as Thor made himself a sandwich, apparently taking the empty plate as an invitation to raid the fridge, piling several meats and chips and condiments between the two slices of bread until Peter was sure there was some kind of magic keeping it from toppling over into the floor. 

"See you guys later," Natasha said, eyeing the sandwich herself as Thor lifted it to take a bite. Peter expected him to pull away in disgust but continued to munch happily. "If you get bored just tell JARVIS. You can come check out what Tony has been working on."

Thor shot her a thumbs up, his mouth too crammed with food to do much else. 

"I will see enough of their science to last me a lifetime while we are here, I'm sure," Loki teased. 

"So I-Uhm-I guess I'll see you around," Peter waved awkwardly, walking backward toward the elevator. "It was nice to meet you guys. Gods. People."

Loki watched them leave, a spark of intrigue lighting deep within his brain. It was no secret Loki was a master of his trade. Manipulation, trickery, mischief: after years of honing his skills, they were as much a part of him as his heritage. As great as he was, his abilities were not always as consistent as he'd like. Yet, even now, after choosing not to use his abilities unless necessary for almost a year, he could smell the lingering scent of deception on Peter from across the room. 

From the moment Peter stepped from the elevator, it was like the smell of an oncoming storm carried on the wind, faint but unmistakeable. After everything Bruce told him about the boy, he wasn't exactly surprised. Just curious. That smell was something he could only pick up on the most nefarious of people. Most could mask it to a degree, the other scents of their being drowning out whatever misdeeds they harbored, yet here it was on the boy with a sweet face and strange mannerisms.

"Hey, you okay?"

Loki nodded at Bruce with a dazzling smile. He would have to find the time to speak with the young Parker boy later. "Of course. I'm better than ever." 

Thor wrapped on arm around each of their shoulders, his head popping between theirs. "So where will we be sleeping?"

****

Clint yawned, stretching his arms out way over his head, then tossed another can of red bull into the trashcan, where it bounced off the mountain of others and clamored to the floor. He'd only been driving a few hours but the last hour felt like days. The beautiful hills and mountains flattened to grass and more grass, nothingness seeming to stretch on and on further than seemed possible. Quite frankly, he was bored as hell. He was just thinking about calling to whine to Natasha when a loud beep sounded. He peered over at the navigation system, then pressed a finger against his com. 

"Hey guys. We are about 30 minutes out."

Sam groaned, his muscles sore and tight. He looked down at his watch then leaned his head back against the headrest. "That's about 20 minutes too far for you to be interrupting my sleep, Barton."

"Sorry for thinking you'd want to prepare for the potential shitstorm. I'll keep your beauty sleep in mind next time," Clint retorted. 

Sam grumbled, but pulled himself up and worked on putting on his shoes. 

"Thanks for the update. We are hanging back, right?" Steve asked. 

"Roger that, Rogers." Bucky let out a disgusted noise. "There is a field about 5 miles from the targeted area. I can get closer, but I figured we'd want to check it out first."

"Sounds great."

Steve stood up in the aisle and activated the magnetic field in his suit, his shield snapping up and attaching to his forearm. It was a heavy but comforting weight, enough to make his muscles tighten beneath his skin but not uncomfortable in the slightest. He released it from his arm and swung it around, feeling the hearty click in his chest when it attached to his back then walked over to the weapon compartment at the other end of the quinjet. 

Steve pretended to rummage through everything, taking a count he already took and had memorized a dozen times before they left. He focused on his breathing as he sped through his mental list, preparing himself for what was to come. 

The ride was better than Steve expected. Things were normal, aside from Natasha being gone. They talked. Slept. Joked. Clint put the quinjet in autopilot to eat with them and go over the plan. Even with everything that happened the night before, he felt fine. 

Yet. 

Fine wasn't what he was used to feeling now. Fine was how he felt a few weeks ago. He knew there were a lot of changes happening that could cause that numb feeling to return, but there was a niggling in the back of his mind that seemed intent on putting that morning on replay, forcing him to connect the two feelings. Concerned brows. Tight smiles. Averted gazes. 

Steve ignored it, not allowing any of his energy to be siphoned into something so trivial in the face of potential conflict, then grabbed the heavy bag near the back of the compartment. 

Bucky was pulling his hair back in a bun when he returned, Sam working to find his eye ware in his bag. Steve plucked them out of the side pocket of his backpack, handing them over and nudged Bucky with the bag. 

"Here. You might want this."

Bucky took it with a scrutinizing look over, then unzipped it, huffing out a disbelieving laugh. Sam looked up just in time to see Bucky pulling out a sleek but hefty looking gun. 

"You're giving Bucky guns now?" Sam asked. "Who the hell decided that was a good idea?"

Bucky grinned, running his hand over the beautifully crafted weapon. "Someone who wants a badass Christmas gift."

"It's just a precaution," Steve said tightening his harness at the shoulder. "I don't want us to be caught at a disadvantage."

"A sexy precaution," Bucky murmured.

"Bucky, I'm saying this with the utmost love and respect: There is something fundamentally wrong with you. As in I legitimately worry about you. And I'm not talking about from the years of Hydra brainwashing," Sam said. 

"Good, because he was like this long before," Steve smirked.

Bucky didn't even seem to hear them, working to take the gun apart and inspect its pieces. 

"I'm sure he was."

"You all set?" Steve asked Sam as he clipped the last of his armor on. 

"Yep. Ready for anything."

"Five minutes out," Clint called out. 

Steve sat back down in his chair and pulled out his phone. He clicked through until he made it to his messages. He was about to hit his usual group chat to inform the others they were about to touch down, then he saw the message from Natasha. 

_Mandatory team movie night tonight._

All the usual numbers were there, then the one that wasn't programmed in his phone. Steve's lips tightened into a line, then he clicked on the thread. No matter what was going on between him and Peter, he would want to know. 

(To: Natasha, Barton, Bruce, Buck, Sam, Stark, Rhodes, and 124-457-7810)  
_About to touch down. We will call as soon as we can._

Steve pressed send, and the others ignored their phones as they vibrated deep in their pockets. A few moments later, Steve's own phone went off. 

(From: Peter)  
_Good luck. Stay safe._

Steve was about to lock his phone when it buzzed again. Steve's brows furrowed as he opened the link. 

(From: Peter)  
_https://youtu.be/CANI0OmaX3o  
Guess you can't make fun of me now. _

Steve watched the video, presumably another Vine, and snorted loudly then dissolved into quiet laughter, shaking his head at his phone before tucking it away, earning him a strange look from Bucky and Sam. 

"Who was that?" Bucky asked. 

Steve opened his mouth then shook his head. “Nobody. Just a video."

Bucky and Sam shared a look, then stood to follow Steve to the back of the quinjet. A few minutes later they landed, meeting Clint by the front of the quinjet. 

"Did you see anything?" Steve asked. 

Clint shook his head. "I did a visual scan through the windows with the thermal lens but I got nothing. I even tried those specialty lenses Tony made but nada."

"She's a T͏e͏ch expert though," Bucky reminded Steve. "It's possible she is masking herself."

"Could be," Clint agreed. "Tony said even the enhanced lenses may not work through concrete. If it's some kind of bunker then it would make sense we couldn't see anything.."

"That's a possibility," Steve conceded. "But there could also be more than one person inside. Knowing Hydra it could be rigged to explode or they might ambush us once we breach the perimeter. We can't take any chances." 

"How do you want to do this then?" Bucky asked. 

Steve looked out over the land. For a hiding spot, the place had practically no cover, so the element of surprise wasn't an option. Maybe that was part of the appeal. "Let's take the bikes. Clint, I want you to have all three levels of arrows."

Clint's eyes widened, then a grin spread across his face. "Level three? Sweet."

Clint bent and reached into his bag, twisting and turning various metal pieces binding the arrows until the device clicked. He tossed the bag into the window of the quinjet and slid the newly freed arrows into his quiver. 

"We are going to stick to the initial plan. I will approach first. When I say it's clear, you two follow, but keep some distance. Clint will hang back and watch our six. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Sam and Bucky said together. 

"Let's do this thing, Cap," Clint said. 

****

Tony was sitting on a stool, hands twisted together, elbows resting on his knees, thinking intently. He had retreated to his lab to buy himself some time, maybe find a little strength in familiar surroundings, but didn't find anything but Peter's statue. Turns out, though, it was just what he needed to see. 

Tony was staring at it at eye-level, searching over all of the parts like they held to truth of the universe. All the details, the hard work he went through to make this collaboration of past and present. Tony and Natasha had been through a lot. Micro-analyzing every misstep, pointing out all the times they went wrong, it took away from the big picture. He missed out on all the great times. 

Tony was so deep in thought, he didn't even notice Natasha watching him at the door. He had a look on his face that was hard to describe, but was probably one of her favorites. His brows were set with the same fiery determination he had before they went into battle, but there was something different about his eyes. They were softer around the edges and the deep brown shone brightly, like he just won an argument with Steve or solved the last piece of the puzzle. It was a spark of victory or maybe pride. There was one thing missing from the ensemble though. 

"It's beautiful," Natasha said from the doorway.

The lab turned out to be even quieter with Peter gone, if that was possible. They didn't say much all morning, but now without the buffer of Peter to ease some of the tension, it was only getting worse. Natasha wasn't sure what brought it on, but she didn't like it. So when Tony left to grab something from his lab and didn't come back, she didn't brush it off.

Tony glanced up at her then back to Peter's statue, a small smile blooming on his face that made her knees weak. "Yeah, it is. Kid did a great job."

"Steve thought so," Natasha said. "He wouldn't stop talking about it to Clint after the movie night."

Tony scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't even want to think about that whole mess. 

"You get the message?"

"Yeah. I'm really regretting not installing those body cams."

Natasha didn't need to point out that there was no way Steve would ever have allowed that, so she didn't. "They will check in soon. I'm sure they're fine."

Tony nodded half-heartedly, his eyes still glued on the statue. 

"Did you need some help in here?"

"No. I was just distracted. I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

Tony walked the length of the table, picking up the tool he supposedly left the lab for to begin with from where it lay on the shelf. Like she was attached to a string, Natasha's own feet moved until she was in front of Peter's sculpture, but her eyes didn't stray from Tony. He tossed up the tool gently, his eyes reflecting in the metal, then dropped his hand to his side. 

“I haven’t told you, but I really appreciate how much you’ve been helping me,” Tony said. 

“I just wish I could do more,” Natasha said. Most of her time was spend going over files or hacking into different systems, but apparently Oscorp learned of their little hack. All the passwords were changed and it seemed even after she managed to break in, all of the Hydra information was either moved or erased completely. 

“I don’t mean with work stuff. I mean me. Thank you for helping me,” Tony clarified, moving the tool around. “I don’t know if I could have gotten through the last few weeks without you.”

Natasha gave him a warm smile. “I’m sure you would have managed.”

Tony didn’t laugh or smirk. He looked a little lost in thought, then sighed. 

"I’m sorry. I know the timing is bad, but I've gotta know. What are we?"

Natasha stiffened. The words were unexpected for the both of them, clearly, but didn't even more so for her. Tony moved forward as the weight of them settled like a thick blanket over them. She didn't even notice she had averted her eyes until she slowly looked back at him, careful to keep her face composed despite the shock of panic that shot through her. 

"I'm sorry?"

"What are we to each other. I need to know for sure how it is you see me, because I'm really not sure I know. Are we colleagues? Partners? Friends?" Tony paused, swallowing heavily. "More?"

Natasha didn't reply, choosing instead to watch him slowly make his way back over. A step. Another step. Another. He stopped a few feet away. 

"Help me understand."

That's all he wanted. Nothing made sense right now. Everything was crazy and chaotic. He was feeling things he never expected to feel, dealing with demons he never thought he would have to face, finding enemies in friends and friends in enemies. The only thing that made sense-the only thing-was Natasha. How much stock could he really put in it though?

Tony's jaw twitched, his eyes hard as he braved another half a step forward and grab her hand. He held it reverently, afraid that he would forget what it felt like to feel her fingers intertwined with his. 

"You hold my hand," he said, placing his free hand on top of hers. "You are by my side every waking moment. You have been with me more the last month than I think anyone has since Rhodey was my roommate in college. I want to believe that there is something here, but I can't guess what it means. Not this time."

Natasha listened silently, her face frustratingly blank except the small pull between her brow. He wanted yell. He wanted her to laugh in his face or say she had no idea what he was talking about. In the very least she could say she wasn't interested, or that she only cared for him the way she cared for the rest of the team, but she didn't say a word, unbeknownst to him how tight her throat had gotten. 

"I've messed up before. I read into things that weren't there but I think it's different this time. I don't know how or why, but I can't- I can't know what you think or how you feel unless you tell me."

Tony released her hand to run it through his hair, making it stand on end. He looked crazy, probably sounded that way too, he knew, but he couldn't keep doing this. It wasn't fair to him or Natasha. They were walking on a tight wire, just waiting to see who falls and who makes it out intact. 

"I'm not used to not having the answer here, you know. What I don't know, I can learn. I can read or- or study. I take it apart over and over again until I can put it all back together again, until I know every single piece. But you-" Tony unclenched his hand and shook his head, grasping for words. "I can't just take you apart to figure you out."

Natasha swallowed hard at the genuine fear and frustration pouring into the words. They were strong and beautiful, and just so Tony. Her chest rose and fell quickly, the sound of her breathing, the blood rushing in her veins, the drumming of her heart all coming together, singing a symphony just for him. She wished he could just hear it and know what she felt, but life was never that easy. 

"You can try."

"I wish it were that easy," Tony said achingly, searching Natasha's face. The slight glisten in her eyes made his own start to prickle, and he lifted his hand to caress a lock of feathery auburn hair from her face. His voice lowered, losing a lot of its power. "I want you, Nat, in any way, form or fashion that you'll have me. I just need you to tell me what you want."

The look on Natasha's face morphed, making her look smaller, more exposed than he'd ever seen her. 

"Don't make me," she pleaded. Her voice was soft but unwavering. 

Tony hesitated, but didn't back down. "Say it."

Natasha shook her head, and Tony moved closer, toe to toe with her now, so close he could see the golden flecks in her green eyes. 

"Tell me what you want," Tony breathed, voice shaking slightly. 

"I can't."

Tony leaned closer, his face only inches from hers now, backing Natasha into the table. "You can."

Natasha's hand twitched at her side, and she slowly raised it to cradle Tony's cheek. He flinched slightly, then leaned into it, his skin starving for the feel of her skin against his. 

"You won't ever trust me," she echoed the thoughts that tormented her mind. "I can't even trust myself."

How many nights had she spent, trying to remember pieces of her life long forgotten, remembering only the lies told and roles played? How many times had she fallen so far into her new identity that she no longer remembered who she really was? 

Tony made her forget all the things she was, made her remember everything she had accomplished , but he wouldn't want her to forget. Quite the opposite. The Tony she knew would want to know everything about her, every inch of her inside and out. Alarm bells sounded in her mind at the thought. Why was it easier for her to lie than to say how she felt?

"What do you want?"

Tony's eyes were blazing now, and the air around them was no longer charged with anxious energy. Tony gently pulled her hand from his cheek, pressing her long, delicate fingers against his lips, then her palm, trailing lazy kisses down to her wrist. Natasha's lips parted, transfixed on Tony's dark lashes and pink red lips, her own eyes fluttering. 

"I'll only disappoint you," Natasha said, breathlessly. 

"Never." Tony pulled away, waiting until she looked up again before he shook his head. "You could never disappoint me."

"Tony," She protested weakly. He couldn't promise that. There were a million things Natasha could tell him in this moment that could ruin what they had. He would know she was broken. Damaged goods. All the death she's caused, and the havoc she inflicted. Everyone pretended they knew what she was like before the Avengers, before her family, but nobody really knew.

Tony let out a sharp breath and pressed both of their hands against his chest. 

"Never, Natalia."

Natasha's eyes widened a fraction, but when she recovered, she finally gave in to her desire, pulling Tony down into a kiss so deep and raw she couldn't breathe. Her arms clung around his neck like vines and Tony responded by grabbing her hips, pulling them together until their bodies were flush with one another. His thumbs were rough and calloused, scraping against her hipbones in the most delicious way. Natasha shivered at the contact, humming softly against his lips. Tony swallowed the noise greedily and she wanted more, diving further into to the kiss. Tony accepted the challenge eagerly, lifting her until she was sitting on the table. 

Her legs drew him ever closer, any distance between them too great. Like a damn had burst open, they could not escape the tidal wave of months worth of want and love and tension that washed through them. Tony kissed her, and it felt like everything in his life that had gone wrong was suddenly righted in one moment. They kiss again and again until they were both panting, then Tony pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. 

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

"So are you," Natasha smiled. 

"Oh, yeah. I know. I won sexiest man alive, remember?"

Natasha laughed then wrapped her arms around Tony, hiding her face away in his chest. After a moment, she worked up the courage to speak the words she couldn't before. 

"I have always wanted you," Natasha said. "Ever since that night before the party. I realized it but I didn't know what to say. You didn't even know who I was then."

Tony rubbed small circles into her back, waiting patiently. 

"I mess things up. I can come off as cold. I'm not what most people want in the long run. I want you, but I don't know how to do this."

Tony's eyes searched over her face, wishing he could read her mind. He wanted to understand her, but he didn't wholly understand himself. He was elated and terrified, and you know, honestly, super turned on. But that wasn't the hard part. Trying to navigate through everything, the only thing he knew with full certainty was that now that he'd tasted her, he never wanted to go back to not kissing her. 

So he didn't. 

Tony leaned forward, pressing a softer kiss to her lips this time: simple, affectionate, warm. "I guess we will have to figure it out together, huh?"

Natasha laughed, shaking her head against his collarbone. Tony's chest swelled with the sound, and he hugged her tightly against him. "God, I love you're laugh. It's amazing. Have I ever told you that? We don't get to hear it nearly enough."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I laugh plenty."

"It is music to my ears," he continued. "Maybe I should record it. No, actually. JARVIS? Can you please put a track together of Natasha laughing?"

Natasha couldn't hold back now, swatting at Tony playfully. "Will you stop? You are a menace."

Tony chuckled, shrugging one shoulder. "That's called being happy. I'm happy."

"Me too." Natasha pressed a kiss to Tony's cheek, biting her bottom lip to suppress a grin when she pulled away. "Peter is going to make you regret saying that."

Tony blinked, then groaned, burying his face in Natasha's hair. "Oh god. Peter."

*****

The hideout was nothing spectacular but Steve expected as much by the coordinates, remote as the small town was. There were a few other houses around it, then a rundown apartment building and a convenience store a mile or so away, but other than that, the two bedroom house was fairly isolated. It felt strange to be out in the open, but it couldn't be helped. Clint perched himself on the abandoned house a few doors down as the others parked their motorcycles at the end of the drive. 

Steve readied his shield, looking to the others before opening the door. The whole house was bare and dusty, what little furniture there was broken down and weathered. Steve made a quick scan of all the rooms, careful to look for any kind of trip wires or devices that could set off before he entered each room, then motioned the others inside. 

"How's it looking in there guys?" Clint asked. 

"Empty," Steve answered. "Out there?"

"Same."

Steve's face hardened. "Okay. Keep your eyes open."

Steve started back in the living room then the kitchen, pulling out the furniture, looking for any sign that his contact had been there at all. There was no food in the cabinets, no dishes left in the sink. Sam Left him to his search and took the backyard, looking through the small sheet metal shed. He went through everything, but came up empty.

“All I’m finding is some old lawn quiptment,” Sam said. “Unless they are planning on killing us all with tetanus, I doubt there’s anything important in here.”

“Okay. Check around front on the porch. Maybe we missed something,” Steve ordered. 

"I’d wait on that," Bucky called out. "Back bedroom, Sam."

Bucky was kneeling on the floor when Steve stepped through the door. Bucky nodded to the frame and Steve helped him move it, making it screech across the wood floors. It was abnormally heavy and apparently with reason. There was a hatch hidden away under the floorboards. 

“That explains why this place is a dump,” Bucky said, brushing his hands on his pants. 

When they pulled all of the boards up, Steve stepped into the small space, dust and dirt flying up. 

Sam started to step down, but Steve shook his head. “I’d step back. Let me check it out first. Be ready to stop anyone who comes out.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

Steve cracked the hatch open, breaking the metal latch with ease. He didn't even bother with the ladder, dropping down into the hole into a fighting stance. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he let out a harsh breath. 

Raina, or RetroDame as Steve knew her, was lying on the floor, her body contorted painfully, the whole room torn apart around. The chair behind her had remnants of rope still hanging from the arms, claw marks making deep bloodied trenches in the wood. Blood pooled beneath her, her eyes wide and paled and bruised. Her teeth were covered in rust-colored flecks, and a hydra symbol was stamped beside her. 

"All clear?" Bucky called out. 

Steve swallowed heavily, tearing his eyes away from her to look up and nod. “Yeah. Clear."

Sam dropped down first, then Bucky. They all looked over the destruction in front of them in silence. 

"What did you find?" Clint asked. "Don't leave me hanging."

"Well, it wasn't a trap," Sam said, hesitantly. "That's a positive, right?"

“Okay,” Clint said, drawing out the word. “Ominous positivity aside, I’m assuming there’s bad news?”

"She's dead," Steve said, the anger barely contained in his voice. "They got to her before we did."

"But how?" Clint asked. "We got here before the rendezvous time."

"I don't know," Steve admitted. "Canvas every inch of this place. If there's something to find, I want it."

"What about the girl?" Sam asked. 

Steve stared her for a long moment. "I will carry her up to the bed. Someone will find her. Let's just get this done."

****  
Peter peeked out his door around 10 PM, shutting the door quietly behind him. He'd been waiting all day to finally pull out his note board, making sheets and sheets of notes, printing them out over his private server, and sorting them into different files so they would be organized for tonight. Just because he couldn't be on the field didn't make him useless. 

"Hey JARV. Activate 'Back Up, Terry' Protocol, please."

"Protocol Activated," JARVIS replied. "If I may ask, has Googles procured any new information?"

Peter squinted, shuffling through some of his free floating papers. "Not that I know of. He would have sent a notification to me if he had. He's probably still keeping an eye on Tony and Natasha."

"Alright."

"Is there something I need to know?"

"No, sir. I was just checking in."

"Come on, JARV. I thought we were past that," Peter said as he climbed on his shoe rack to pulled out all of his things from the top of the closet. "We're buds right? You don't have to call me sir."

"You are right. My apologies," JARVIS said after a slight pause. "It must've slipped my mind."

Peter gave the ceiling a dubious look as he sat on his bed, then looked at the board on the floor in front of him, tapping his pencil on his crossed leg. "Did you see if Tony made any progress on the device today?"

"I'm unable to answer that," JARVIS said. "You still have level three clearance."

Peter bent over and plucked the sticky notes off the board. "I figured, but it's okay."

“Have you considered attempting to contact Mr. Leeds again?”

Peter sighed. “I texted again this morning but apparently they are both grounded. But hey. At least I have you and Goggles, right?”

Peter started rewriting all of the information on new sticky notes. He'd already done it twice before, but writing them made him get into the thinking headspace, putting his brain on the right track. He sometimes saw connections that maybe he wouldn't have before. His pencil scratched across the paper. 

May gone.

Hydra connected to Oscorp.

Splicing genes.

Serum to incapacitate mutates.

Delayed effect with Peter's blood.

Peter's parent's started the Splicing program. (?)

Peter put a big question mark beside that one. He still wasn't entirely sure what his parents were hoping to achieve by splicing genes. Most of the research on the Oscorp page talked about regrowing limbs or organs. As far as Peter knew, he never had an issue with either. Tony may know, but Peter doubted he would be sharing the files he received any time soon. 

Secret: Tony almost died

Peter was fairly certain that one was even related to the rest of it, but he wanted to keep it on the board just in case. Maybe one day he would be able to ask Tony about it. He thought for a moment then added two more. 

Framed Peter for Steven's disappearance.

Steven slows Peter's healing.

Peter looked over the post-it's with a frown. 

"Not a lot to go on," He commented. 

"Much more than you had before utilizing Goggles," JARVIS said. 

"That's true."

Peter opened the folder of his own notes over conservations Goggles recorded and placed them all around himself, highlighting key points as he went. When he was content, he walked over to the board, placing them in their designated areas. Then he used a marker on the board to make three sections. The first one he labeled questions. He jotted a few down based off of the information given, then looked through the file again, making sure he didn't miss anything else. 

The second column he labeled Peter, and put everything that seemed to be revolved around him there, and then connected everything that overlapped with Hydra by strings, starting at the oldest information, like his school records and the stuff about his parents, to the most recent.

"Thor and Loki," Peter said offhandedly as he worked. "They are pretty intense huh?"

"If you mean they are different, that would be an accurate observation," JARVIS said. "Their customs are quite different than our own."

"They're amazing. You can tell just being in the same room with them that they aren't human. Or maybe that's just the spider senses."

"I believe that is the case. I have no record of civilians recognizing them as otherworldly by senses alone."

Peter's lips turned down in thought. "Yeah. I guess the big magic staff was what probably gave Loki away. So-uh. What's up with the paper plates?"

"Thor tends to break the kitchenware," JARVIS said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Peter hummed, still scrawling words onto the board. 

"They probably think I'm pretty awkward, huh?"

"I don't imagine they did. I'm not sure they noted the difference," JARVIS argued. "Not Thor, anyway. Loki seems much more adept at reading people."

"Yeah, I can imagine he would be."

Peter seemed to get lost in his work, not looking up from the board or speaking again until it was close to one o'clock. The board was completely filled with questions, diagrams for the remaining parts of the concealment device, possible connections between Peter and Hydra, and a lot more post its. He even managed to type in a few different possible algorithms to desequence the strands of serum Bruce was working on. 

"Peter, Tony is on his way to this floor."

Peter dropped his pen and automatically started stuffing papers from the floor back into his file. 

"Is he coming to my room?"

"I can't be certain, but I doubt he is going to bed. The others are going to be landing soon."

Peter quirked his head to the side, but his hands didn't stop moving. He shoved the file at the bottom of his tool box and took it to the bathroom and stowed it under the sink. 

"Steve's group?"

"Yes."

"Why are they back so soon?" 

"I am unsure. I have not heard anyone give a reason."

Peter shook the thought away and put the board at the top of his closet, quickly looking around the room to see if there was anything out of place before laying on his bed, pulling down the blankets and reaching for the remote to turn on the episode of Criminal Minds he was watching earlier. 

Peter looked around. "Oh! Can you dim the lights for me, JARVIS?"

Peter had just enough time to slow his heartbeat and look invested in the show when there was a soft knock at the door.

"Hey Pete. You up?"

"Yeah, come in." 

Tony opened the door, still wearing the outfit Peter last saw him in, which was pretty typical. He doubted Tony had taken any time for himself all day, especially since he had the rare opportunity to have Bruce's lab to himself. 

"What are you up to?"

"Not much. Just-you know. Tv and stuff."

"Did you get your video submitted?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah. Paper too."

"You weren't in the lab when I was up there earlier," Tony pointed out.

Peter winced. "Honestly, it didn't take me very long. I've spent a lot of time in here today. Did Rhodey ever make it in?"

Tony shook his head, then crossed his arms. "He's going to stay on base a couple more days until I leave for the Accords meeting."

"They are making you go?" Peter sat up fully. "They can't make you do that. What are we going to do? Are we all going to go?"

"That's actually what I came to tell you. Steve's group is going to be here soon. I figured you might want to come up with us."

"Why are they back already? I thought it was going to take a few days."

Tony shrugged. "They haven't told us yet. We were hoping they would brief us when they land."

"Oh," Peter said. He did want to know what happened, but he wasn't sure he wanted to go down. After going over all the information again, it was at the forefront of his mind just how much he missed out. They always said more when Peter wasn't around. If he wanted the whole story, he would need to hear it from Goggles. "Is everyone going? It's pretty late."

"Yeah. It’ll be all of us." 

"Could you guys just fill me in the morning then? I'm pretty tired."

Tony was a little concerned now. He looked around the room, not even trying to be subtle. He saw Peter's laptop on the charger, his bathroom light glowing underneath the door. Clothes in the hamper. If Peter spent most of the day in there, was he just laying in bed the whole afternoon?

"Look kid. I know things are weird between you and Steve but you can't hide from him forever. Believe me. I've tried," Tony said, taking another step through the door. "Golden boy is pretty much everywhere."

Peter's lips parted, then he clicked his jaw shut. "Who told you things are weird?"

Tony gave him a look and Peter sighed. 

The tension between him and Steve this morning obviously hadn't gone unnoticed. Peter tried to act like it wasn't there, but willing it away was far less effective than you would think. 

"Well, this isn't about Steve. Things are weird, which kind of sucks, but I think I just want some time to myself tonight."

Now that Peter thought about it, he was really glad he told Tony he didn't want to go. Having all day to dissect how weird he was with Thor and Loki, then thinking about having to deal with that and Steve and Natasha all at once...not a good idea. 

"You are normally begging to be at the lab, wanting to know everything that's going on when you and Steve aren't attached at the hip. What changed?"

"Sometimes a little distance isn't a bad thing. And I'm not talking about forever. I'm sure I'll see him tomorrow, but for tonight-" Peter shrugged. "I need to think over some things. It's not a big deal, though. Promise."

Tony frowned, but couldn't find it in him to argue. "Okay. I'll tell them you were already asleep. Unless you want Natasha barging down your door."

Peter laughed. "I think I'll pass. Thanks for checking in on me though."

"Sure thing, kid."

Tony shut the door and Peter tapped on his watch. "Hey Goggles. Please record the meeting in the Greeting Parlor. After that you can be done for the night, okay buddy?"

****

When the others checked in to say they would be back that night, Tony knew it wasn't going to be with good news. The mission was expected to take days. If they had information, they would have pursued the lead sending them who knows where. If they ran into trouble, they wouldn't have returned so quickly, if at all. What possibility that left though, they didn't know, which had everyone on the edge of their seat. 

Despite Tony's insistence that they meet in the morning, everyone but Peter was waiting in the Greeting Parlor. Thor and Loki didn't seem phased by the late hour, but Nat and Bruce looked like they could fall over at any moment, only able to keep standing out of a need to see their friends intact. 

Despite the obvious loss, nobody could hold back a smile when they saw Thor. They all took a minute to greet each other, making sure to include Loki despite not knowing him as well. He was just as much a part of the family as everyone else as far as they were concerned. The good times had to come to an end though, even if they didn’t want them to. 

When she could see everyone else’s reluctance to dive in, Natasha took the bullet. "So what happened? Was the information no good?"

"Worse. Whatever it was must've been something good. They killed her before we got there," Clint said, dropping onto the couch. 

“Tortured her too from the looks of it,” Sam agreed, his face pinched.

“Any sign of how they found the girl?” Bruce asked. 

“Reina,” Steve corrected. “But No. There was no way to know.”

"It was hours before we got there," Bucky explained from his spot next to Sam and now Clint. "Maybe even a day. They had enough time to ransack the place then make it look like the house was abandoned. She was in a secret room, but it was reboarded and everything."

“I’m guessing they didn’t leave anything behind either?” Tony asked Steve. 

Steve shook his head curtly. 

Natasha nodded to the box on table. "What's that then?"

Bucky picked it up and carried it to the couch, setting it on the floor. "We took anything we thought could be important. None of the papers looked unrelated but we figured we could scan ‘em into the system anyway. Broken laptop. Probably wouldn’t have had anything important on it even before it was jacked up but who knows.”

“I can take a look at it, see if they left anything,” Tony assured him. 

“Anything new here?” Sam asked. 

Natasha and Tony shared a look, blushing slightly. They hadn’t exactly discussed if they should announce that they were officially together-or whatever they were-yet. Luckily, Bruce spoke saving face for both of them. 

“I ran more tests on the blood samples we found using the samples I took from Steve and Bucky. I should have the results by morning,” he said. “I’ll look at them under the microscope and test them with the serum tomorrow.”

Tony rolled his eyes. He should have known Bruce would sneak down to the lab at some point. 

“What about Peter?” Clint looked around, then frowned. “Oh come on. You guys couldn’t even let him come to this?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “He’s asleep. I went up to ask, but he was already in bed.”

Loki quirked his head, wondering if that could be true. The child, from what Bruce said, was a night owl, much like Bruce, Tony and himself. What reason he would be faking sleep, though, Loki wasn’t sure. Bruce gave him a questioning look but Loki just patted his hand, not quite ready to tell Bruce of his musings just yet. 

“Oh. My bad,” Clint said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was just, you know. I’m thinking about heading home for a few days. If Thor and Loki are going to be here, you guys should be good. The kids have been asking about me.”

“We will be here as long as you need,” Thor agreed. “I do think we should have the party before you leave, though.”

Clint perked. “A party? For me. You absolutely should have.”

“Not much to celebrate there, buddy,” Bucky said. 

“Nonsense. There is always a reason to celebrate,” Thor said, throwing an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “We are all in one room, safe and sound. A once unthinkable feat, if I recall.”

“I wouldn’t have expected it,” Tony admitted. 

“It’s settled then. We will have a celebration tomorrow night,” Thor said happily. “Maybe the spider child will show us his gifts after I give him some mead.”

“I don’t think-“ Tony started.

“Not going to happen,” Natasha said at the same time. 

Thor pouted a little and Sam laughed, shaking his head. 

“Leave it to Thor to try to get the kid drunk,” Sam said, then yawned heavily. 

“I think this is enough for the night. Why don’t we meet up tomorrow? I don’t know about you guys, but Nat and Bruce are dead on their feet.”

They all muttered their agreement at once and Peter took the opportunity to shut his laptop. He didn’t think he was going to learn anymore from listening in. Goggles would continue recording until they were fully disbanded just in case, but the way things were going now, he wouldn’t remember what they said regardless. 

Peter tried to focus on what everyone was saying, but his eyes kept drifting back to Steve. It was strange. Steve was usually the one who took charge, but tonight he barely spoke and when he did his words were sharp and brief.

Peter wondered what it meant as he readied himself for bed, and was just pulling back his blankets to go to sleep when he heard another knock on the door. Instead of calling out, he walked to the door, surprised to find Steve waiting behind it. He was still in his Captain America uniform, covered in dust and dark splotches of blood Peter assumed belonged to Reina, his hair sticking up from where he’d been wearing his mask. 

“You’re back,” Peter said, his mouth instantly dry. 

Steve nodded, his brows still pulled tightly together. “Can I come in?”

Peter gaped for a moment, then nodded, moving out of the way so Steve could step through. Peter shut the door behind them, then offered the recliner to Steve. He moved his computer chair out, putting the books that were sitting on the seat onto the bed before sitting down. 

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked. 

Steve was staring at his hands, but tilted his head slightly to look at Peter. “No. They aren’t.”

Peter’s heartbeat sped up, but he nodded, leaning back, then forward again. “Okay. What’s going on? Everyone’s okay, right?”

“Everyone’s fine, but we didn’t find anything,” Steve said. “I’m sorry.”

Peter shook his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

“This was our last lead,” Steve admitted. “I told you we had more contacts, but this was it. We are back to square one.”

Peter took that in, not sure what to say. He licked his lips. “We will find something. You guys always do.”

Steve shook his head. “No, see. There’s the problem. ‘We’ shouldn’t be doing anything.”

Peter tried not to let his expression show anything but confusion, but the sudden surge of panic had to be obvious. “I don’t know what you mean.”

”Are you sure about that?” Steve reached in his side pocket and held out his hand. Peter stared at Goggles, cold and decommissioned, his lips parted. “Would you like to try again?” 

“Steve-“ 

“Tell me why,” Steve said. “Because I’m not understanding why or even how this-“ Steve held up Goggles in the air, “got into the Parlor without triggering JARVIS.”

Peter didn’t answer, the urge to fly out of the room as fast as he could ironically keeping him glued to the chair. He tried to think of anything that could right the situation. He could lie. It would be easier. There could be a dozen different ways he could play it, but the words were stuck on the end of his tongue. 

“Peter,” Steve snapped. “Tell me why you are spying on us.”

Peter shook his head, his voice wet. “You guys won’t tell me anything. You hide everything from me even though I’m just as smart and strong. I know that if you guys would just tell me that-“

“That what? You could help?” Steve demanded. “Our source was killed, do you understand that? Tortured beyond recognition, and they didn’t even need her. Can you imagine what they would do to you if they got their hands on you?”

“You don’t think I’ve thought about that when they have my Aunt?” Peter asked, his voice breaking. “Of course I’ve imagined it. Some nights it’s all I think about. While you guys are out there chasing down the bad guys, I’m expected to sit in my room like a good kid, knowing that every day could be another day she is being hurt.”

“That doesn’t mean you can go behind our backs to get information,” Steve said, standing up. “Let me ask you this. How is it, you think, that Hydra stays one step ahead of us?”

“What?”

“Hydra seems to keep finding out everything we do, every move we make. They killed that girl almost a full day before the rendezvous. How is it you think they are getting that information?”

“I’m not-I didn’t,” Peter looked like he’d been slapped. “You don’t-you think I’m working with Hydra?”

“No,” Steve answered, shaking his head. “I don’t think you’re hydra, but I’m not the only person on this team. It’s not an unfair question, considering.”

”Are you kidding? You think people on the team will believe I am helping Hydra? That I wanted that girl to die?”

“Everything points to that. We never had this many losses against Hydra until you came to the Tower. They are getting information that should have been secure. What am I supposed to think?” 

Peter scoffed in equal parts hurt and disbelief. “Get out.”

Steve froze. “What?”

“I said get out. We’ve been through a lot and-and I get that I shouldn’t have lied,” Peter shook his head. “But I’m not Hydra. I would never hurt any of you. Ever. If you think even for a second that I could, you-you aren’t who I thought you were.”

Steve stared at Peter for a long moment, then grinned, leaning against the wall. “How about that. You are a strange little creature, aren’t you?”

Peter blinked, chest still heaving. “A Strange-what?”

Steve’s uniform started to shimmer slightly, then all at once changed completely to a familiar pea coat and sweater and leather boots. The sudden change made Peter’s whole body jolt, not unsimilar to a cat jumping out of fright. His Spidey-Senses didn’t know what to make of the change, and seemed to be shooting off like a live wire. Loki stepped forward, none the wiser, adjusting his sleeves as he looked at Peter with an oddly approving look.

“Loki?” 

The man in question hummed. “You should be more careful with your toys. That one isn’t nearly as sneaky as you think it is.”

“I don’t-I’m sorry I’m-“ The floor seemed to sway under Peter’s feet. “What just happened?”

“Just a little information gathering,” Loki said as. He picked up one of Peter’s books and began skimming the pages. “Seems you and I are alike in that way. Information from the source is much better to have, though, I should tell you.” Peter blanched. “Is everyone watching this?” Loki scoffed. “Of course not, and I’m not planning to tell the others, if that’s what you are worried about. I know what it’s like to be the odd one out. Very distressing. Leads to a bit of defiance.” Loki frowned, tilting his head from side to side. “In some cases it manifests on more on a galactic scale, but I digress.”

“You won’t tell anyone,” Peter repeated, the words sounding like they shouldn’t fit together. “Why not?”

“I just told you why. I don’t believe in hindering a little rebellion. Especially with intentions so pure,” Loki smirked. The words seemed like a compliment, but didn’t sound it. 

“Then why even confront me about it? Why act like Steve? I mean, what are you trying to accomplish here?”

Loki snapped the book shut. “I needed to know you weren’t a danger. I figured my best shot of you coming clean would be with either Steve or Stark, and I happen to like a little drama. Plus, I enjoy having information on people. Call it a hobby.”

Peter frowned. 

“Luckily, you told no lies. If anything, you passed with flying colors. If you hadn’t, things wouldn’t go quite so smoothly for you.”

“I wouldn’t hurt them,” Peter repeated. “Any of them.”

Loki gave Peter a small smile, his teeth seeming to shine even in the dark. “Then we shouldn’t have any issues.”

With that, Loki walked out, leaving Peter to come down from his panic in peace, wondering what trouble would find him next.


	15. Peter Saying Steve in Varying Levels of Concern: The Sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter takes place over the course of just one day. Lots of High School type hijinks ensue. 
> 
> WARNING  
> Bit of angst and maybe? triggering material. Underage Drinking! Gore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only partially edited so please forgive any mistakes!

Steve headed to his art room, clutching one of his older sketchbooks by his side, rubbing his thumb over the leather surface. Some nights in the army camps, when he couldn’t make his mind stop playing over the day, or whatever else plagued his thoughts, he would do the same thing to the point where the top layer would start to peel back leaving little holes like honeycomb in the cover. This one wasn't as weathered as the one bought shortly after being pulled from the ice, but there was a slight discoloration there, the rich brown fading to a grey-tinged tan. 

The sun was shining though the windows when he stepped inside, almost too bright for the early hour, but Steve didn't mind. He would rather paint with the natural light anyway. Steve felt off kilter for some reason he couldn't explain, like there was a fuzzy, almost buzzing sensation in his mind. He couldn't focus on anything. All he knew was that he needed to paint. He needed to get out of his head and into his art for a while.

Steve looked over his collection of paints and grabbed a few from the shelves, different hues of reds and blues and blacks, and the glass clinked as a few of his favorite brushes settled into the mason jar in his hands.

Once Steve was settled at his easel, the warmth of the sun shining on his back, it didn't take long for Steve to get lost in his work. He started a little hesitant, but gained confidence in every sharp line, finding himself in the various strokes. The colors and shapes were awash in his mind, not quite forming a proper image yet, but he could feel in his bones that it was coming together. He could assure it with the same confidence that the tides would rise and rain would fall. It was an inevitability.

"Steve?"

Steve startled at the sound of Peter's voice, knocking his paint water to the floor and almost dropping his paintbrush. Peter was sitting cross legged on a stool by the window behind him, watching Steve with a strange expression in his face. He was wearing his Spider-Man suit, but his mask was hanging from limply at his side. Steve did a double take before setting his brush down and turning to face him fully.

"Peter? What are you doing in here?"

Steve would be lying if he said he wasn't happy to see him, even through the surprise. After not getting to see him the night before, he'd had a hard time falling asleep, too busy remembering the good days, and wondering if letting Peter leave when Steve knew something was wrong had put and end to them.

"Why did you do it?"

Steve quirked his head and he felt his hair on the base of his neck stand on end. Something was wrong here. Where Steve usually drew comfort in the sound of Peter's voice, the words sounded foreign and unnatural falling from Peter's pale, chapped lips. They sent shivers of disgust down his spine, like nails on a chalkboard.

Steve shook his head slightly, working to correct his thoughts. No, it was Peter's voice. One of his best friend's voices. It was. Even if it didn't sound right it was still just Peter. That couldn't be what was wrong. Steve's eyes flitted over Peter. Maybe it was his face. It reminded him of the first few drawings he'd made of Peter, where he couldn't quite get the angles right. Steve's stomach knotted uncomfortably, trying to shake off the feeling.

"I don't know what-" he started slowly, leaning forward in his seat.

"Why did you do it?" Peter asked again, his voice low and emotionless. Steve gaped at him, then looked to the floor, where the dark red tinted water was seeping deep into the carpet. The curtain behind Peter swayed, and Steve swallowed, unease prickling across his skin.

Steve slowly looked back to Peter, who was still waiting expectantly for an answer. It was just a question. All Steve had to do was ask him what he meant, then he could give Peter an answer. It was simple. Yet Steve didn't want to ask, was afraid to, if he was being honest. He managed to ground the words out, his voice like gravel. "Do what?"

Peter didn't respond. His eyes slid glassily to the space just behind Steve then just sat that way staring, unblinking, unmoving. Steve's brows furrowed, and he could feel his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

"Peter?"

Steve was shaking now. The only indication Peter heard him at all was the slight twitch in his cheek. The longer Peter stared at the space, the stronger the feeling of someone watching him grew.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek anxiously, then forced himself to turn despite every atom in his body screaming at him not to, not knowing what else he could do.

When Steve realized what Peter was looking at, his stomach lurched, nausea pouring over him like hot sludge. His painting-Steve's painting- had morphed, the lines and colors he created finally coming into focus. Peter laid in a pool of clotting blood, almost exactly how he'd found Reina, bruises and gashes littering his body. Harsh reds and blacks surrounded him, a menacing cloud that bled into his visage, covering him like veins that seemed to pull his body toward the inky darkness. Steve's heart jerked painfully and he shook his head, almost desperately.

"No. No, Peter I didn't-I wouldn't do this-"

Steve turned, and Peter's gaunt, slack jawed face was only inches from his. One side of his head was caved in, his hair matted and gnarled around his forehead. Grey tinged skin stretched to its limit across his bones like a canvass and glistening white eyes bore holes into his, no trace of the warm chestnut color he remembered. They were cold. Empty. Terrifying.

"Peter," Steve whispered, almost like a plea, tears falling from his face.

"Why did you do it?" Peter was crying now too, shoulders shaking with the intensity of it. Dried, sticky blood lined his teeth in a rusty brown and his lips cracked and split with word, tears mixing with the blood as it dropped down his face.

The break in the emotional slate Peter had been wearing was worse than the unresponsiveness. His cries were shrill and wildly distorted, but Steve didn't even seem to notice. Steve found himself panicking, needing to fix what he'd done. Peter had to know he didn't mean to paint him that way. Never even wanted to imagine it. Peter meant so much to him, he just wanted to help him. Steve would listen, do anything he needed, as long as Peter would be okay.

"I-I didn't mean to!" He swore, brokenly reaching for Peter, but Peter stumbled backward, trying to get away from him. "I would never hurt you."

"Always too late!" Peter wailed, blood gurgling his words as they clawed up his throat. The closer Steve got to Peter, the more the viscous liquid seem to pour from his mouth on to the carpet, a dark mixture of reds and blues and blacks. "Always too late!"

Steve finally grabbed him, only wanting to hold him long enough for him to calm him down, but instead Peter shattered like glass, and everything went black.

Steve shot up from his bed, covered in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. His chest was heaving, but he couldn't seem to get enough air. Each breath seemed to tear through his lungs, and tears rolled down his fear flushed cheeks. Peter. He needed to check on Peter.

Steve clumsily ripped the blankets off of him, cold air raising goosebumps over his sweat covered body. He fumbled in the darkness for his phone, his hands shaking so hard he could barely hold it straight as he pressed in the numbers. The phone only rang a few times before Peter answered.

"Hello?"

Steve's body relaxed a fraction, relieved that Peter sounded normal, if not a little sleepy, but he still couldn't find enough air to form words. He wheezed, trying desperately to compose himself.

"Steve? What's wrong?"

"I-" Steve tried to speak, but his voice came out like a croak. He shook his head, covering his face with a shaking hand. His skin seemed to be tightening, shriveling and closing in on him. The thought of it only brought back the images of Peter from his nightmare.

"Steve? Are you okay?" The phone fumbled and Steve heard Peter curse before he spoke again. "Hold on. I'll be there in just a minute."

Steve wasn't sure how long it took Peter to get to his door, but it felt like both a lifetime and no time at all. Steve heard the front door fly open, then Peter was rushing inside.

"Steve?" There was a loud bang followed by a another string of curses, then Steve heard him grumble to himself. "Great freaking time to realize i don't know where his room is."

Steve let out a half-hysterical wheezing laugh.

"Steve?" Peter perked. Peter's footsteps grew louder as he ran to the door, knocking twice before flinging the door open. Peter rushed to Steve's side, lurching forward into his bed, pulling him into his arms without hesitation. Steve latched on to him, burying his face in Peter's neck.

"Hey, it's okay," Peter soothed, running a comforting hand down his back. Steve didn't seem to react at all though, his rasping seeming to echo in the near-empty room. The short, tight gasps weren't fading, and Peter's thoughts ran urgently in his head. He gently lifted Steve's chin to look in his eyes, concerned at the pure panic he found there. "It's okay. Just look at me, alright? Shit. One second. JARVIS, hit the lights bud, will ya?"

The lights turned on and Peter finally got a good look at Steve. His whole body was quaking with every breath, his eyes puffy and lined in bright red. His hair was a mess, not unlike his own, sweat dripping from his temple. His eyes darted around, like he was looking for an intruder, but his body stayed stock still.

"Can't-" Steve tried, but Peter shushed him softly.

"You're having a panic attack. I need you to breathe. I know it feels like you can't, but I need you to try. Can you do that for me?"

Steve's head pressed into Peter's shoulder again, almost lolling forward, as if he was too tired to hold it up any longer, and he tried to focus on Peter's words.

"Breathe with me, okay?" Steve nodded into the crook of Peter's neck and Peter worked to slow his own breathing, chanting quietly in Steve's ear.

"In. One, two, three, four. Out. In. One, two, three, four. Out..."

Steve clung to his every word, Peter's voice calming and strong, like waves crashing against the sand. Steve could feel the vibration from his vocal cords down Peter's neck, and for some reason, that seemed to pull him back to reality more than anything. His dream was slowly fading to the background, but Steve knew the image of Peter would haunt him for long after the dream itself dissipated.

"You're doing so good. Let's do it again."

Peter started the chant again and again, until Steve's breathing finally calmed enough for Peter to feel comfortable stopping. His hands didn't stop rubbing soothing circles into Steve's back, though, his cheek resting against Steve's hair.

"You okay?"

Steve nodded, but didn't move, afraid that if he did Peter would realize their position and leave. Steve wasn't sure he could handle that right now. He needed to be able to smell the mix of metal and shampoo on Peter, feel the familiar fabric of one of his favorite shirts. He needed to know that this Peter, his Peter, was safe and sound in his arms. Steve was better with him here. His life was better with him here.

"I guess that's kind of a stupid question isn't it." Peter said gripping Steve tighter against him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Steve shook his head. Hell no. He never wanted to think about it again, much less pound it back into his brain. Talking about things made them more real, fixing them like concrete in your mind. There was an irrational part of his brain that figured Peter would be scared of him if he knew, too. Only a crazy person would dream something so horrible, right?

"Alright, that's okay. Just let me-uhm." Peter adjusted himself leaning back against the bed frame at foot of the bed, pulling Steve forward with him. With Steve now basically laying on his chest, he ran his fingers through his hair comfortingly. "There. That better?"

Steve nodded again and Peter sighed in relief, closing his eyes as he dropped his head back. "Dim the lights please, JARVIS."

"Of course."

Now that Steve was calmed, or at least breathing evenly, Peter's own heart was finally able to slow, bringing with it a headache. His adrenaline must've been surging, because he felt like he had run a marathon. But then again, it could've just been a lack of sleep. It was only 4:30 AM, so there was no way either of them had slept any longer than an hour or two.

Steve's eyes fluttered shut, but as soon as he started dozing, bloody teeth and rotting skin invaded his mind again.

"Would it help if I talked?" Peter asked, sensing the tension build in Steve's shoulders again. "It used to help me a lot."

"Used to?" Steve asked, tilting his head up to look at Peter. All he could see from this angle was the sharp line of his jaw, shadows outlining most of his face, but it was a slight comfort nonetheless.

Peter breathed out heavily, his cheeks puffing. "They started when I was pretty young. Back then, my mom would just tell me stories until I fell asleep. After everything that happened with Ben, I was a little too old for that kind of thing so my Aunt May would just talk about the patients she had that day."

"Do you still have them?" Steve asked.

"Not as bad as I used to. For a while I was having them every night."

"How did you stop them?"

Peter's fingers stilled for a moment, then continued twirling in Steve's hair. "I-uh. I didn't. Not really. They still come, and some nights they're worse than others, but it's easier, you know, when I'm around you guys. When I have good days."

Steve picked up on Peter's discomfort and quickly changed the subject.

"Your aunt was a nurse, right?"

Peter nodded.

"Mostly in the ER." He let out a small laugh. "She saw all kinds of crazy stuff. She used to say it was like working at a circus sometimes."

"Like what?"

Peter hummed, thinking. "Well, there was this one time a little girl, 4 or 5 I think, came in with a very hysteric mother. Apparently she jumped off the top bunk and it snapped into the flat of her foot when she landed. The little girl was happy as sunshine, talking and singing even through the X-Ray. Since X-Rays don't pick up wood, it didn't show anything so they had to figure out something else. After talking with the doctor, Aunt May was told to numb around the hole and check inside manually. She came back a few minutes after giving her the injections to check if the anesthetic had set in yet and she asked, "Hows your foot doing? Do you think it's numb enough for me to look at it yet?'"

"The little girl just looked at her, lips pursed out then said, 'I'm not sure. How will I know?' My aunt decided to go feel around and put one thumb on either side of the hole, and just kind of softly pressed on it, like this.” Peter mimicked the action on the palm of Steve’s hand, trying not to think how much he’d rather be holding it. “She asked if it hurt and the little girl shook her head, so my Aunt pushed a bit harder. Suddenly the toothpick shoots out of the poor girl's foot like a pop tart, and the little girl just got super excited and said, 'See mommy! I told you it was in there!' Then her mom fainted."

Steve's shoulder's shook as he laughed, and Peter broke into a full grin. "I wish I could have seen her face."

"Yeah. The little girl asked if she could take the toothpick, because her crush at school got to take the fishing hook they pulled out of his head to school in a jar a few weeks before."

"A fishing hook? How does that even happen?"

"I have no idea."

Steve put his hand back on Peter's chest and their hands brushed lightly. The slight touch felt magnified in the darkness, and Peter’s breathing hitched. He could see the slight rise and fall of Steve's chest deepen, and he licked his lips nervously, a feeling like fire burning in his stomach.

Neither was quite sure who finally closed their hands together, but it was easy, almost like a habit or compulsion. Steve stared at their intertwined fingers, wondering how he never noticed how beautiful Peter's hands were.

Steve's hand tightened and Peter instinctively twiddled his thumb. Steve smiled at the adorable impulse, matching the movement, and then their thumbs were dancing around, darting left and right, trying to subdue the other. Steve deftly pinned Peter's down, and Peter scoffed in pretend offense.

"Cheater."

"I didn't cheat. That was all skill, Queens. Turns out I'm efficient in all kinds of war," Steve snickered.

"Ha! Cap's got jokes. Best two out of three?"

They played again and again, Steve winning more often than not, but Peter managed a few sneak attacks here and there.

"How are you so good at this?" Peter cried, exasperated when Steve got his thumb down, once again, in less that three seconds. "Do you just thumb wrestle yourself in your spare time?"

"We didn't exactly have TV when I was growing up," Steve said, amused.

Peter groaned, playfully covering his face with his free hand and sliding it down his face until his eyes peeked behind his fingers. "Are you going to give me the 'I had to play with rocks and sticks' lecture? Because I'm pretty sure my Uncle Ben gave me enough of those to last me a lifetime."

Steve chuckled, his face bright and relaxed and Peter couldn't help but smile, glad to hear the sweet sound after the night they'd had. "No, but I definitely have some great stories about walking two miles to and from school in 3 foot of snow."

Peter groaned. "You're lucky Tony isn't here. He'd be eating this up."

Steve went to agree, but a loud yawn took its place, Steve using his free hand to try to stifle. "Sorry. I guess I'm not as awake as I thought."

"It's okay. How about we turn on a movie?"

"You don't mind?" Steve asked.

"You kidding me? Sounds awesome."

Steve rolled his eyes fondly, sitting up just long enough to grab the remote, then settled back in with Peter, pulling the blankets back into the bed with him. Steve tried not to feel too awkward as they readjusted, now laying side by side, their heat mingling together pleasantly. It had been a long time since he shared a bed with anyone, even like this.

Steve managed to shake off the feeling as they debated what to watch, quickly deciding to turn on the first Star Wars again, not wanting to start anything new just in case they fell asleep. The thought of Peter actually staying long enough to fall asleep didn't even seem to bother Steve now that they'd been talking.

After he started the movie and put the remote on the side table, Steve gently laid his cheek against Peter's head. It was a simple gesture, but even after everything that had just occurred, it felt like a big step to Peter. Steve wasn't just looking for comfort now. Peter nudged him softly with his shoulder, then smiled up at him, Steve's smile reflecting back at him.

"Is it weird that I'm excited to watch this again?" Steve asked. "I know it's only been a few weeks"

"Nope. Just makes you the coolest person ever."

Steve huffed and the opening title sequence started to play, the light shining bright in the dark room. Peter hummed along with the music and Steve closed his eyes as he listened, not even attempting to read the words on the screen despite what he'd just said. When it came to an end, Steve could feel Peter peeking over at him.

"You know, I never said thank you for coming," Steve said seriously. His brows were set, but there was still a softness their that made Peter want to pull Steve even closer, and claim those perfectly sculpted lips with his own. "So thanks."

Peter shrugged, blushing slightly, trying not to let his thoughts show on his face. "Do you feel better?"

"A lot better," Steve said honestly. He paused then added, "I'm just glad you're okay."

Peter hummed. "I could say the same about you. I thought I was going to have a heart attack for a minute there."

"I'm sorry," Steve said. He hadn't really thought about that. Steve wasn't used to being someone who needed help that way, so it made sense that Peter would have been uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh no. Don't apologize. I'd do it a million times over if it made you feel better. Not that I'd want you to go through that a million times, but yeah. You know what I mean."

Steve hesitated a moment then swallowed, his reflection in the TV looking so far away, almost forlorn as the scene switched. "I thought I was having an asthma attack. I thought maybe the serum stopped working and I was back to the old me. It shouldn't be possible, but it's not like I have any other sources to check. Nobody knows for sure what happens in the long run. How long I live. If it lasts forever or if one day I'll wake up and I'm the old Steve all over again."

Peter's eyebrows shot up at the admission. That must have been terrifying. He knew first hand how scary it was to think you've lost your abilities, but a small bruise was nothing compared to what Steve would lose. He see the distress on Steve's face, but he wasn't sure what to say.

"That's-" Peter tried, before shaking his head. "That sounds awful."

"Yeah, it was, but then again I've never had a panic attack quite like that before. Nightmares, night terrors even, but nothing like that," Steve said. When Peter shifted slightly, as if uncomfortable he hurriedly added, "But I really am better now. You don't have to worry."

"I'm going to have to disagree with you there, Brooklyn. Panic attacks like that don't happen to people who are fine."

Steve didn't argue, or otherwise respond at all, his gaze fixed on the screen. Peter searched his face. When he couldn't find anything that could indicate what Steve was thinking, he lightly squeezed his hand.

"It's okay to not be okay, you know," Peter said, his voice soft. "Sometimes you just aren't. Its a part of life."

Was that true? Steve wasn't so sure. When he was chosen to take the Super-Soldier serum, he was given a gift. He didn't have the luxury of self-doubt or fear. He was supposed to be better, stronger, not just for himself, but for everyone. Not perfect, but a good man. The type of person his mother would be proud of. Someone people could look up to and follow.

Right now he was being weak. He was letting his fears dominate him, getting caught up in the same cycle he was in with Bucky, relying too much on Peter when he should be able to deal with his problems on his own. Steve tried not to think about how much his feelings for Peter were growing, but he couldn't deny it any more. He needed Peter, and someone like Steve shouldn't need anyone.

Steve nodded once, and Peter seemed contented with the small assurance, but as he turned his attention back to the movie, Steve's thoughts continued to spiral, starting first with his friendship with Bucky, then his friendships with all the Avengers: how they'd grown and changed from forced working relationships to something like family. How he loved all of them. Things were better between them now, but even still, Steve knew what happened when he was forced to choose between his friends and Bucky, and the thought pained him deeply.

The two points seemed to mold together in Steve's sleep-deprived mind. After everything that happened the day before with Reina and months before with Tony, what was at stake in caring for Peter the way he did was hot and fresh in his mind, and it terrified him. Every time Steve stepped out of the Tower, he was no longer in control of anything that happened. Even with the best intentions, he was bound to make mistakes. He could try his hardest, do everything right, and still lose everyone.

He couldn't leave Bucky. They were two halves of a whole, no matter what unrequited feelings he had to endure, unable to be separated by Hydra, or space and time itself. He cared for Peter, much more than he ever expected to, but if that choice came between him and Bucky, the fracture it would cause in the team would be one that they would not survive a second time. Earth would lose its team of Avengers, and he would fail. He was just one man. He was their leader, yes, but Steve couldn't protect the world alone. He couldn't protect either of them alone.

They weren't even half-way through the movie when Steve pushed himself up, suddenly feeling trapped under the weight of his blankets and untangled himself from Peter.

"Ope, sorry," Peter mumbled, confused at Steve's sudden departure. "What are you doing?"

"JARVIS, lights." Steve scooted to the edge of the bed, planting his feet in the floor, running a hand through his hair as he looked for his phone. "You should go."

"What?" Peter asked, pulling himself into a sitting position, the blankets shifting. "Why? What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry. I know I called you, but it's late. You should be sleeping," Steve said, having to work to steel his voice. "Thank you for your help, but I can take it from here."

"It's okay. Really. I won't be able to sleep anyway," Peter lied. "I don't mind staying."

"You should go," Steve repeated, more forcefully this time. Peter watched as Steve walked over to the door and held it open, his eyes hard.

"I don't understand," Peter said, still whirling from the sudden emotional whiplash. How did they go from cuddling to this?

"What is there to understand?" Steve snapped, his eyes flashing. "I need you to leave."

"What-why are you doing this?" Peter demanded, his brows furrowed. "Was it something I did?"

Peter wasn't really asking. He knew what Steve was doing. For someone who butted heads with Tony for being so stubborn, Steve was just like him. He couldn't just let himself feel anything without trying to tear it apart. The second things looked like they were getting too serious, Steve took a step back.

"It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have to explain myself," Steve said, crossing his arms.

Peter gaped up at him, unable to believe what he was hearing. He was being dismissed. Again. The adult was cutting him off, making his decisions for him. He was expected to take orders, his input be damned. He'd come to expect it, but it sucked, even more so from someone he thought was his friend.

Peter didn't deserve this. Whatever was going through Steve's mind right now, he obviously wasn't thinking straight.

"I-but-Ugh. You know what, fine," he sputtered, his face changing to something more determined as he settled back on the bed. "-if you don't want to tell me what's going on, that's your choice, but I'm not going to leave until you do."

Steve's teeth ground together loudly.

"Queens, I swear, if I have to pick you up and carry you out kicking and screaming, I will."

Peter bit into his tongue, fighting back the urge to yell at him, dare him to try. "Just tell me what you're thinking. I can't help if you don't talk to me."

Steve growled in frustration. "Why can't you ever just listen? Why do we always have to argue?"

"Because you keep pushing me away," Peter said. Steve could almost hear those exact words in his voice, ringing somewhere in his memories. "It would be one thing if we weren't friends but this is what I'm supposed to do. I'm supposed to help you through stuff. Every time I think you start to understand that, I slam face-first into a wall."

"I'm trying to help you," Steve said, his frustration only growing. This was going to end badly. Why didn't Peter see that? "It's better for everyone this way."

"Better for who exactly? You think this is helping me?" Peter asked, voice laced with angry incredulity. He shot from the bed, meeting Steve's eyes with a hard glare. "You being here is what's keeping me sane. You make me feel normal. You are the only thing keeping me from feeling like my whole life is falling apart."

"Then maybe you need to find someone else to train with. Maybe Natasha can take my patrolling days, or Rhodey," Steve said, meeting his glare with the same intensity. Steve took a steadying breath and his jaw tensed. "I can't be the person you need me to be."

Peter felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Steve didn't have to use the exact words for Peter to know what he was really saying. He fell silent, no sounds but the gentle flow of the air moving through the vents above their heads to fill the void. His frustration bled away leaving his eyes marred with pained understanding.

Steve wasn't pushing away his friendship. He was pushing away his feelings.

"Are you serious?" Peter asked, sounding wounded. All of the fight seemed to drain from his body, taking all of the anger with it. "So what? You're just-you're not going to talk to me anymore?"

Steve could almost hear his own heart shatter at the look in Peter's eyes. Steve almost took it back, told Peter that he didn't mean it, but he caught himself, the lump in his throat too heavy to allow him to speak anyway. Peter was prepared to argue until his face was blue if he thought that Steve was being self-destructive. There would have been no stopping him until Steve knew that there was nothing that would push him away. The instant he thought he was no longer wanted though...

"I'm sorry," Steve said, fighting to keep his voice hard. He couldn't take it back, but he could at least say that.

Peter tilted his head back slightly, his eyes pointed to the ceiling for a long moment before clearing his throat.

"You're wrong," Peter said quietly. "You already are that person for me. You have been for weeks now. I know we just hang out and stuff, but you-you and this friendship means a lot to me. I understand if you don't want it. I'll back off if that's really what you want. I don't think that's true, though. You don't have a problem with our friendship."

Peter gestured to the bed, to the sheets where they laid just a minute before were slowly growing cold. "If this is what bothers you, if you don't want to do this, don't want anything past what we had before tonight," Peter shook his head, his eyes pointed at the floor. "I never expected you to."

Steve swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. His teeth banding together to force back all the things he wished he could say. For a moment, he almost wished Peter could see through him, even knowing that if he did, there was a high chance of everything falling apart.

But Peter didn't see through him.

He searched Steve's stony expression painstakingly, any hope of salvaging what they had slowly fading when he was met with nothing but determination. Peter slowly started to nod, and let out a pained chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No. Yeah. I'm being stupid," Peter said. He sniffled softly and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "I'm just gunna-I'll just-"

Steve stepped out of Peter's way as he passed, and Peter's steps didn't falter until he made it to the front door. A part of Steve willed him to come back, even though he was glad he didn't, stepping through the threshold without so much as a last look back. The door closed and Steve turned back to his empty bed, knowing that any chances of getting enough sleep to function were now slim to none.

****

"We doing all terrain today?" Bucky asked.

Steve looked up at the clock, his nose scrunching slightly then shook his head. He knew that if he was tired, Bucky probably was too. The only reason Steve got up at all was because Bucky showed up at his door at 7:30, ready to work out. Even with his eyes and head aching though, Steve wasn't complaining. Getting back into routine was exactly what he needed.

"No. I think we've done enough for today. Good work, though," Steve said as he worked on putting away their weights.

"Okay." Bucky watched Steve wipe down the equipment appraisingly. Did Steve just turn down a work out? "Okay. You hungry then? Sam said he would make breakfast, but it'll probably be a few hours before his lazy ass is up. I can order somethin' to hold us off."

"I'm okay, but you go ahead. I think I'm going to run a few more miles," Steve said, not looking up.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll be up in a bit."

Bucky grabbed his towel then headed to the showers. Steve obviously had something on his mind and Bucky had the sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with their fight. It wasn't unlike Steve to focus on their training, but even on his most quiet days, Steve was still Steve, so the occasional word of encouragement or comment on technique was still par of the course. Today it seemed like he was having to pry the words out of him, and it felt like some sort of divine punishment.

Bucky quickly showered off, only feeling slightly more human as he headed to Steve's floor. Bucky would go to his own, but it was always too empty, too plain to ever feel truly comfortable in. Where Steve had taken his space and made it his own, Bucky never found a reason to do the same. It seemed like his time at the Tower could come to a end at any time, despite Steve's assurances that the team would never make him leave, or maybe it was just habit after not having personal affects for so many years.

It was almost an hour before Sam joined him, looking much worse than he and Steve did, even with the extra hours of sleep.

"How did I know you'd already be up?" Sam grumbled. "Steve up too?"

"Running."

Sam scoffed, tossing a bag on to the table. "Of course he is."

"That Steve's?" Bucky asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. He left it in the Greeting Parlor. Omelets?"

Bucky nodded, walking to the fridge to help pull everything out. Sam raised a brow at the unexpected help, but didn't argue when Bucky started chopping the veggies. They worked in companionable silence until curiosity got the best of him.

"So are we going to pretend you aren't pouting or do you want to talk about it?"

Bucky glared at him, pushing the veggie plate over to Sam. "I'm not pouting."

Sam smirked. "So pretending. Got it, pouty pants."

Bucky huffed indignantly.

"I'm not pouting," he repeated. Sam gave him an expectant, almost daring look, the smile on his face equally infuriating and adorable. Bucky slammed the bag of cheese on the counter. "Me and Steve got into it again. I thought we were good but now I'm not so sure."

"You guys seemed fine yesterday."

"Yeah."

Sam waited, but Bucky apparently didn't feel like elaborating. "What did you fight about this time? Or was it the same stuff?"

Bucky told Sam after one of their first therapy sessions together about his fears that Steve was going to get himself killed trying to butt in and save everyone, but this fight felt much bigger. Bucky managed to fight back a wince, but Sam seemed to read through his discomfort anyway.

"Okay. No details then," Sam conceded easily, flipping over two of the omelets. "How about you answer some questions instead?"

Bucky busied himself, pulling out his laptop and setting it up on the table across from Sam. He didn't agree, but he didn't argue either, which was good enough for Sam.

"Do you think Steve is mad at you or do you think he is upset?"

Bucky thought over it for a moment, a slight pinch in his brow. "Probably both."

Sam nodded to himself, hiding his surprise that Bucky actually answered by digging through the drawers for a whisk. "What about you? You said you thought you two were good. Does that mean you are over whatever happened?"

Bucky shrugged, his face suddenly hot. "I just want to forget about it."

Sam's lips turned down in thought. "Do you want to forget what you said or what he said?"

Bucky cursed under his breath. "This is stupid."

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's just like group therapy. Just less group. It's just between me and you, so spill it."

Bucky scrolled through the feed on the World News bulletin, scanning the words for anything important. Sam let him work through what he was thinking without pestering him, used to these kind of silences from him by now. Sam pushed Bucky's food in front of him. About halfway through his second omelet, he finally sighed.

"I don't like Peter."

Sam huffed. "That's not true."

Bucky stopped mid-chew to scowl at Sam. "Why would I lie about that?"

"You aren't lying," Sam amended. "But just because you aren't lying, doesn't mean what you're saying is true."

Bucky gave him a look. "You do realize you sound really dumb when you try to sound smart, right?

"Did you hate working out with him? Lunches?" Sam waited. "Would you rather Tony throw him out in the streets?"

Bucky frowned. No. Peter was loud, a little obnoxious at times, but he was also a smart, sarcastic little shit. Whether Bucky liked it or not, the kid fit right in with the lot of them, and even when Bucky didn't want to, he found himself smiling at his little whips and jokes, just like the others.

"Yeah. I didn't think so," Sam said, but he didn't sound smug about it. If anything, he sounded relieved. "You two get along well enough, you just don't trust him. I don't think that's a bad thing though. None of us can, wholly, not until we know him better."

"Steve and Tony do," Bucky pointed out.

Sam debated adding Natasha to that list but thought better of it. He could never really be sure of what Natasha thought about anything.

"So the fight is about Peter then?" He asked instead.

Bucky scratched his fork across his plate. "I don't think Steve should be involved with him. He disagrees."

Sam hummed absently, playing over everything he knew in his head. After a thoughtful silence, he put the spatula down and leaned forward. "Did you ever stop to think it could be Peter he has a problem with?"

"Why would he be mad at the kid? I'm the one he fought with."

"You said everything was fine between you two yesterday, and after everything that happened at the meeting, I wouldn't be surprised if their dynamic has changed."

"I don't know."

"It would make sense. Peter was the last one to talk to Steve the night before we left but they could hardly look at each other at breakfast."

Bucky raised a brow, intrigued. "They talked that night?"

Sam nodded and Bucky continued eating. Bucky hadn't even considered Peter as a possibility for Steve's bad mood. If it were true though, what did they talked about? Did Steve tell Peter what was said during their argument? If he did, what would Peter even say to that? Did Peter finally tell Steve that he had feelings for him, or was Peter mad that Steve didn't stick up for him during their argument? There were too many possibilities to ever really know what was going on. Unless he asked. Which, let's be realistic. That wasn't going to happen.

No matter what scenario he imagined, though? Bucky had to admit it would make sense for Steve and Peter to be on the outs. Steve seemed off today, back at the Tower, where yesterday he'd been fine. Almost back to normal, really.

"No idea what they talked about?" Bucky asked.

Sam shook his head.

Well. It was worth a shot.

"I'm guessing you have an idea though," Sam said.

Bucky didn't have the chance to answer, the sound of the door opening making them hurriedly turn their attention back to their breakfast. Steve walked in wearing charcoal colored sweats, his hair still damp from the shower.

"Nice run?" Sam asked.

Steve gave him a small smile. "It was long."

"Get what you needed?"

Steve ran a hand through his hair. No. He didn't. "Yeah. Make me a few of those, will you? I think I'm going to start going through those papers we found at the bunker."

"Breakfast first, files after," Sam said with a stern brow.

Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but Bucky pulled out a seat beside him. "Take a seat. Come on. We've got all day, Stevie."

Steve sighed, but sat down.

After breakfast, Bucky cleaned off the table, making room for them to set up shop, while Steve and Sam went to get the box of files from the lab. He slid Steve's backpack off the table on to the chair, but it tilted, spilling its contents on the floor.

"Shit," he muttered. Bucky finished cleaning the rest of the table then walked around to pick up the mess scattered across the tile. It was Steve's usual things: a change of clothes, his wallet, a pocket knife, and his sketchbook was splayed open, it's spine pointing upward, on the floor by the chair.

Bucky picked it up last, wanting to take time to smooth the now crinkled pages, but stiffened slightly when he saw the image of Peter captured in color pencil and charcoal, laughing at the communal table, behind his glass. He flipped to the page and found Peter working in Stark's lab. Flip. Peter somewhere Bucky didn't recognize, bright colored splotches swirling together in a sea of green. He flipped through the pages finding another then another and another, only a few other pieces peppered in between them.

Each was different, the next picture always more sophisticated than the last. His first few appearances in the book were just sketches, roughly drawn out like an afterthought, but by the time Bucky came to the most recent one, Bucky could tell a lot of time and effort went into perfecting the little details.

Bucky flipped through them all again, a dozen unpleasant feelings settling into his stomach like a stone thrown in icy water. They were beautiful. He wouldn't expect anything less from his best friend, but they weren't just that. Bucky was no expert, but he could almost feel the shift of emotions.

When Steve asked Bucky if he would be mad if he went after Peter, he thought Steve was just trying to hurt him. There was no way that Steve could actually care for the kid that way. But all the proof he needed to see otherwise was here, imprinted on the pages in front of him.

Bucky shut the book, tucking it away in his jacket, before zipping Steve's bag and tossing it back in the chair. He had some thinking to do.

*****

When Peter's alarm went off, he was already up and working on the concealment device. He could feel himself slipping back into that dark place and needed something to distract him. The device was an easy choice. After his run in with Loki, he decided that this project could no longer be put on the back burner. If he realized anything from their conversation, it was just how much he didn't want to have to explain his indiscretions to the Avengers, not after the reaction "Steve" had. The device would assure that being caught wouldn't happen a second time.

Goggles was already laying disassembled on Peter's bed, just waiting for the device to be implanted, and the last two pieces required to make it work were sitting on his table beside his bed. They needed to be tested individually before he would risk putting them all together. Especially inside Goggles.

Peter was tinkering with the first, making checks with the extra power source he built for testing when he heard Tony's door open down the hall. He hurriedly moved to lock his door, moving as quietly as he could manage. Even if Tony stopped by, he would only have a few moments to hide everything, the lock would at least buy a few more seconds of time. He reached over his bed for the second piece of the device, about to pocket it, but quirked his head when he heard not one, but two pairs of footsteps echoing in the hall.

"Think we should wake him up?" Natasha whispered, her smile evident in her voice. "There's still time for some sparring and breakfast."

"And hear 'I told you so' at this hour?" Tony whispered back. "Nah. Let the kid get in his beauty sleep. He can start up again tomorrow."

Peter blinked, confused for an embarrassingly long time, his brain trying to compute what they were talking about and why Natasha was in Tony's room at this hour, then the realization hit him. Peter shook his head, smiling. He laid back on his pillow, exhaling all the pent up tension from his body.

"Figures," he commented to himself, a sad smile plastered on his face, a shoddy makeshift repair over a big, ugly, gaping hole. "Leave them alone for one day..."

At least they were happy.

*****

Bruce leaned back in his chair, staring accusingly at the microscope in front of him. Three times he ran the test. Three. Each time the results were the same. Peter's blood was the only one that reacted differently to the serum.

This could mean several things. Since Bucky and Steve were both enhanced by a similar means, there was a possibility that the reason neither of their blood seemed to react differently was because neither of them had a similar component that Peter had. The chances that if one didn't react, both wouldn't were fairly high. Bruce also didn't seem to have that component, but they were only three out of hundreds of mutants.

That theory was starting to splinter, though, since Steve sent over the requested samples from Fury's database he requested the night before. Out of the 20 added samples, none of them had a delayed reaction.

Another possibility, one that he had yet to test out of fear of being correct, was that it was Peter's DNA infused with the compounds.

Dozens of lines of notes were written in neat little lines, piled in neat stacks beside his microscope, and Bruce had the sudden impulse to crumble them up and trash them. He wanted to see the words fold up until they were unrecognizable, bending and contorting until they looked the way they felt.

Bruce didn't know what he was supposed to do.

Bruce didn't like feeling like he was being biased, but how couldn't he be now? Bruce was a man of science, but in this instance it was hard to ignore his instincts, and they were telling him that Peter was innocent.

Loki was sitting next to Bruce, his feet perched on another chair lounging comfortably as he read through some papers Clint gave him about various Midgardian weapons and their history. He had made it much further than he imagined, but they'd also been in the lab much longer than he expected. What was supposed to be a quick run resulted in an almost two hour adventure, if one would call it that.

Loki was getting a bit bored, finding a lot of the weapons to be archaic-almost barbaric really-, but Bruce's determination and brilliant mind were two of the reasons Loki's fell in love with him in the first place, so he didn't mind wasting a bit of time. Of course, that wasn't the only reason Loki adored him.

Bruce seemed to have a way of seeing into people that most people didn't. Loki never asked if it was a skill he always had, or if it was something that he learned over time after spending time with his temperamental counterpart, but Bruce seemed to be the only one, besides maybe Thor, who saw Loki's anger and destruction for what it was. He took the time to pick and prod, like the scientist he was, until Bruce had no choice but to fall in love with him.

Their friendship was great, the short time it lasted. It was obvious from the beginning that they had a lot in common, but the more time they spent together, the more they seemed to bring out the best in each other: Bruce feeding on Loki's cool confidence, and Loki taking comfort in Bruce's soft, gentle nature.

"I'm assuming this means that you and Tony are finally going to have that talk?" He asked, one eyebrow raised at the expression on Bruce's face as he presumably worked to set his desk on fire with his mind.

They'd talked about it on several occasions, Bruce's discomfort about keeping things from Steve and the others, but as loyal as Bruce was to the Avengers, he seemed just that tiny bit more loyal to Tony. Well, maybe that wasn't true. Perhaps if it were something else, Bruce wouldn't be able to keep the secrets, but Tony had good reason to keep it from them. Regardless of the reason, Bruce knew the longer they hid the facts, the worse the outcome would be.

He hummed, noncommittally, only barely processing the words.

"You don't want to, do you?"

Bruce pursed his lips, then turned to Loki with a torn expression. "Maybe I should test them all just one more time. Just in case.

Loki smiled at him understandingly, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. He waved his hand theatrically toward the microscope, smirking. "Test away, my love. Whatever you need."

***

"You guys ready?" Sam asked, looking fresh and crisp in his newly donned denim jacket.

Bucky was already drinking a flask of the special whiskey Bruce distilled for him and Steve, sitting on the arm of the couch. His hair was down, but he opted to wear some nicer jeans and a long sleeve black henley instead of his usual ensemble. "I've been ready. It's you guys who always make us late."

"Forgive me for showering. Maybe you should try it sometime, Maybelline."

Steve rolled his eyes, pulling on a jacket. "I don't know what that means, but I'm ready."

The rest of the day had passed rather quickly, though Steve didn't seem to remember doing much other than look over files. He was glad that nobody seemed intent on pressing lunch together with the upcoming party, but it made for a pretty uneventful day.

The three stepped out onto the graveled rooftop, surprised to find it was warm despite the soft snow falling on the glass-like dome over their heads. It was no less amazing than what one would expect from Tony. Beautiful lights were strung high above them, looking like twinkling stars against the dark snow clouds. They could smell the delicious scent of what could only be the greasiest and cheesiest of cheese and the sweet tang of pizza sauce from the door, overwhelming the smell of the half dozen other foods sitting on the food table.

Clint, Natasha, and Thor were playing darts by one of the large solar panels, and from what Steve could tell, Clint was winning. Not that he would expect any different. Bruce, Loki and Pepper were chatting quietly as they picked through the various items on the food table. Rhodey and Peter were over by the makeshift bar, listening as Tony spoke animatedly over the music, a smoothie in his hand. Peter was grinning with his arms crossed lazily across his chest as he listened, and Rhodey added in ever now and then, making Peter laugh.

Everyone dressed causally, despite the extravagant set up, except for Peter, who apparently hadn't gotten the memo. A black button up clung to his lithe body, his charcoal vest and pants making him look more like a man about to walk on the runway than attending a small party. He was absolutely stunning. His hair was even more mussed than usual, and despite himself, Steve found himself imagining Peter spending hours in front of the mirror trying to tame it, just to see it grow even more unruly.

Steve's lips quirked up sadly.

"Sometimes I forget how freaking extra Tony is," Sam muttered, pulling Steve from his thoughts.

"I don't," Bucky replied. He took another swig from his flask then handed it to Steve, not commenting on the direction of his gaze. Steve hesitated, but after the day he'd had, he decided he deserved it. He spared one more glance toward Peter, then handed the flask back. "Let's go pick on Clint. Maybe he will miss."

"I'm in," Sam said cheerfully.

Natasha's eyes narrowed as lined up her mark then she released the dark, pleased when it flew into the dartboard, hitting just left of the center with a light thunk.

"Amazing!" Thor shouted, excitedly. "That was a great throw, my friend."

Natasha looked over her shoulder and gave him an appreciative side smile.

"If she's amazing, I'm a fucking god," Clint mumbled, spinning a dart between his fingers. His cheeks were slightly tinged pink from the alcohol he and Natasha pre-gamed an hour before. "But hey. Who's keeping score, right?"

"It's okay, брат," Natasha said, gently nudging him. "Everything I've learned about the sacred art of darts, I learned from you. In a way, he's really complimenting you."

"Damn straight," Clint said. Natasha raised a brow, and Clint sat on the edge of the table beside her, laying his head on her shoulder. "I should give credit where it's due, though. You are a pretty good student when you aren't threatening to maim me."

Clint leaned forward and flicked his wrist in one smooth movement, the dart landing smack dab in the center then held up his arms in victorious fists.

"But I'm still the master."

Natasha rolled her eyes fondly at his antics, handing him his glass.

"Truly amazing," She deadpanned. "You are a wonder to us all."

"Ah. Is this an example of your spy powers, Natasha? What do you call it? Manipulation?" Thor asked, looking at her in awe, his words slightly slurred. "It is most impressive."

Clint stopped drinking, then pulled his glass away, quirking his head at Natasha. Just in time, the trio stepped in, pulling her attention elsewhere.

"Got room for a few more?" Sam asked her.

Clint's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Natasha?"

"Always. Here." Thor handed over the darts next to him. "The more the merrier."

"You done already?" Bucky asked.

"I was not playing, just observing. The darts are much too small for my hands," Thor explained. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he treated the darts like javelins.

"I'm about ready for another drink," Natasha said, purposefully ignoring Clint. "Who wants mine?"

"Wait! Natasha-" Clint whined.

Steve took Natasha's darts and Sam took the spares, Natasha waving at the group as she walked over to join Tony's group. Neither of the boys played as much as the others, this being one of the more popular games at their parties, but neither were bad. Steve had a tendency to throw them a bit too hard, but once he got into the rhythm he was decent. Sam was better, but even with Bucky trying to throw Clint off his game, he was immaculate.

"I've had to shoot targets the size of a softball from a half mile away while being attacked. By aliens. You and your mean little words aren't going to throw me off," Clint insisted.

"If you're so sure, how 'bout we make it more interesting?" Bucky proposed.

"Buck," Steve warned. He knew Bucky's version of interesting and he really didn't want to be cleaning little Clint pieces out of the gravel tonight.

"That sounds like a great idea," Clint said jovially. "Let's hear it."

Steve sighed.

"First shot you have to make upside down," Sam piped in. "I called it."

Clint smirked at Sam and gracefully moved into a perfect handstand. "I used to be a carnie, dude."

He took a few steps forward, still on his hands, then focused a moment, adjusting his hands until he was comfortable enough to balance on just one hand. He pulled out the dart, and in one fluid movement, it hit the center once again.

Bucky and Sam both groaned.

"That is very impressive," Thor said. "Can you do it upside down and blindfolded?"

Steve knew actually playing darts was no longer an option, so he sat them down and looked over the rest of the party. Everyone was all kind of meshed together now, in a group but talking amongst themselves as they picked at their plates. Steve pulled out a chair, and took turns looking between the two groups. For the first time in a long time, Steve wasn't sure what to do with himself.

Across the room, Natasha was greeting Rhodey and Pepper, who came in after Natasha was already playing darts. Even after spending most of their day together, Tony couldn't keep his eyes off of her. He waited until there was an opening in the conversation before cutting in.

"Hey guys. What's up? What are we talking about?"

"Debating how much trouble Natasha's going to stir up at the Accords meeting," Pepper said, slyly. "I was just saying that I wouldn't be surprised if that pompous Senator lady spontaneously implodes."

"We could only be so lucky," Rhodey said with a small tilt of his head. "At least then something interesting would happen."

"I think we've had enough interesting for a while," Natasha said.

"I guess you guys have," Pepper said thoughtfully. "Sometimes I forget how much you guys are juggling right now."

"Most of it isn't bad," Natasha said.

"Comparably?" Pepper asked, her brow raised.

"Comparably," Natasha agreed.

They talked for a few minutes more, but when Happy interjected to talk about their upcoming week schedule, Tony leaned closer to Natasha.

"Having a good time?"

"I am. Everything turned out beautiful," she said. Even with only a day to prepare, it was still one of the most elaborate house parties she'd ever seen, and she'd seen a lot. "I'm surprised we never thought of having a party out here before."

"I was really digging saving the idea for the reverse snow globe," Tony said, looking up at it. "I think it turned out pretty good. But I do think it's missing something."

"And what is that?" Natasha asked, a small smile creeping on her face.

"You and I in the center," Tony answered. "Will you come dance with me?"

Natasha eyes danced with amusement and she raised her brow as if to ask, "now?"

"Come on," he pressed. "Humor me. What kind of party is it if I don't get to dance with the most beautiful lady in the room?"

"I assume like the rest of your parties," Natasha mused.

"Cheeky," Tony laughed lightheartedly. "I like it. If you are wanting to make me cry, though, you'll have to try a bit harder."

"I'll keep that it mind," Natasha said as held her hand out obligingly.

Tony intertwined his fingers in hers, then guided her by the waist from behind to the center of the roof before spinning her around to face him, and pulling her in.

"Any dances you prefer?" Tony asked, caressing his hand down her arm.

Natasha shivered slightly and shook her head. "I know them all so dealer's choice."

Tony smirked. "Let's keep it simple then. Don't want everyone thinking we're showing off."

"Never."

Tony wasn't surprised when Natasha moved effortlessly with him, falling into the dance easy as breathing, graceful and powerful in every step.

It didn't take long for them to draw in attention. Peter noticed first, his eyes catching them as he spoke with Bruce and Loki, and one by one everyone turned to watch as they danced across the floor.

They looked like they were made for dancing together, like all the stardust and forces of the universe joined and aligned in just a way to bring them to this point. Their movements worked fluidly together, pushing and pulling, a beautiful give and take between the two, both looking at each other with complete adoration.

Natasha pressed herself closer against him, oblivious to their current audience, and looked up at him through dark lashes.

"Not a bad dancer," she commented.

"Lots of practice," Tony said shrugging, but there was a pleased smile on his face. "Just out of curiosity, is there anything you can't do, or am I doomed for an eternity of living in your shadow? It's cool if I am, don't get me wrong. The whole sexy empowered woman thing really does it for me."

"Good to know. And I suck at baking. Surprising I know," she teased.

Tony tsked. "That's nothing. We have Sam for the baking."

"I suppose we are all set then."

The song changed to something softer, and they moved in tandem to a slower, more intimate dance. They moved in small circles, swaying and stepping more than dancing now, and Natasha laid her head on Tony's shoulder, just enjoying the closeness.

"You're always so warm," she murmured. "It's one of my favorite things about you."

Tony pressed his lips against her forehead, welling up with a sudden, intense emotion that he knew was coming way too quickly. There was no stopping it though. It was a long time coming. It was hard to believe that the woman in front of him now in her black sweater and uptied hair was the same woman he met a few years before. Even with everything that happened, they were here, smiling. Together.

"Nat?"

Natasha looked up in question and Tony answered by capturing her lips in a sweet kiss, forgetting about the dozen other people in the room. As they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together, and Natasha smiled down at their feet.

"Thought you weren't ready to tell everyone," she said, her voice low.

Tony swept a piece of hair from her face. "I'm not sure if you know this, but I can sometimes be impulsive."

Natasha pretended to seem thoughtful. "I was unaware. Must have slipped my attention."

"But I don't think we've escaped theirs."

Peter quickly turned away, whispering something neither could hear, and everyone else followed suit, their heads all turning away in a dozen different directions, trying and failing to look casual. Natasha laughed and turned back to Tony, making everyone else let out a collective breath. The long-term will they, won't they obviously got of them, and they found themselves more invested in the outcome than they thought.

"He finally did it," Pepper said, a soft smile on her face.

Rhodey nodded happily, pulling her closer to him and she leaned her head on his shoulder. "He did. Because I'm the best best friend ever."

Pepper rolled her eyes but kissed him anyway. "You sure are. I'll be sure to remind him that."

"Around my birthday," Rhodey agreed. "I should tell JARVIS to order me something badass. Like a car."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Like you need another car."

"I don't," Rhodey conceded. "But man do I want one."

Bucky and Clint both pulled out their wallets, silently handing a few bills to a very satisfied Sam.

"Thank you," Sam grinned. "I will make sure to think of you guys while I spend all of your money."

Peter had started watch the two quietly again with a soft expression on his face.

"You don't look too surprised," Bruce said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "They already told you, didn't they?"

Peter laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked from Bruce to Loki. "Yeah, no. I-uh. I heard them come out of Tony's room this morning."

"Oh," Bruce choked on his drink, his face reddening. "That's..wow."

"Come now," Loki said, a tantalizing grin on his face. "You act as if you don't enjoy sharing beds with dashing men, and we both know that isn't true, don't we?"

Bruce's blush deepened.

"Ha. Gross," Clint chortled from behind them. "Gotta say it's about time for those two though."

"That's what I thought," Peter said.

Clint put his arm around Peter, almost knocking him over as he pulled him from the stool.

"Come on, kid. Thor is waiting for us over there," Clint said, nodding his head in the direction he was pulling.

"What? Thor wants me? Why?" Peter asked, as he righted himself. His thumb rubbed anxiously at his side.

"Big guy wants to see you do your little backflips."

Loki raised a brow at Peter. "Backflips?"

"I get that request a lot, actually."

Loki tilted his head. "Carry on."

"Ah! Spider child," Thor greeted loudly as they made their way to the far side of the roof. "How are you?"

"I-I'm great," Peter said, awkwardly. "How are you?"

"Wonderful. Clint said he would make your Spider powers manifest and do tricks!"

Peter narrowed his eyes at Clint, who was whistling near the air unit innocently. "You said I'd do tricks? What the heck, man? I'm not a dog."

"What? No. You're a spider," Thor said, shaking his head. "I did not call you a dog."

Peter couldn't tell if Thor was being serious. When he just kept looking at him in confusion, he shook his head. "No. I didn't mean-i just meant that, you know-"

Thor's brows furrowed even further at Peter's loss of words, so Peter just sighed, turning to Clint.

"Okay. What do you want me to do?"

Clint quirked his head. "You okay, kid? If you don't want to do this, it's okay. Normally you don't mind this kind of thing, right?"

Peter's shoulder's sagged guiltily. Clint was right. Peter didn't know why he was taking this so personally. Well, he did, but it wasn't either of their faults.

Thor was looking between the two. "Did we offend you?"

"No, it's fine. Really," Peter said quickly. He didn't want to ruin their nights just because he was a little sad. "I was just teasing. So-uhm. What do you guys want to see first?"

Clint didn't look convinced, but he wasn't ready to pass up this glorious moment just yet.

Over the next ten minutes, Peter showed Thor how his webs worked, getting a slight lecture from Tony when he almost knocked down one of the poles holding the lights, then did a few acrobatics. Some of the others saw him do those and clapped, making Peter blush, feeling both a little embarrassed and happy at the same time. Thor's favorite part though, was when Clint told Peter to pick him up.

Peter held Thor sideways over his head, Thor shaking and roaring with laughter. "I feel like an infant! He lifts me with such ease."

"It's awesome, right?" Clint laughed. "So weird coming from such a string bean."

Peter scowled. "Dude. I have muscles! I'm just not bulky like you guys."

Clint shrugged, trying to hold in a barking laugh. The kid was so easy to rile up. "Still looks crazy."

Peter gently put Thor back on the ground and Thor looked around excitedly. "Now where is the Captain? I need to see the two of you arm wrestle."

Clint could see Peter deflate at the mention of Steve's name, and he was starting to put everything together. Clint studied him, something measuring in his gaze that made Peter want to step away. It was like he was being peeled apart, or seen through. Peter wasn't far off. Clint may have been Natasha's teacher in darts, but learned a thing or two from her too. "What happened?"

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised that Clint was the first to notice. He really thought it would be Natasha or maybe Bruce or Tony, but no matter who it was he thought he'd be able to hide t a little longer than this.

"Nothing," Peter said, unconvincingly. "I just don't think that's going to happen tonight, Thor."

Clint nodded, but there was a slight pinch between his brow.

"It's okay, Kid. Right Thor?" Clint gave him a meaningful look, and Thor's disappointment melted into a look of blank confusion. Clint elbowed him with a sharp look and Thor nodded, overeagerly in fake understanding.

"Oh. Uhm. Right. Yes. Very fine," Thor assured him.

"Swear you only get more airheaded with the alcohol, dude," Clint muttered. "But I still love you."

Peter pretended to wipe away some sweat, eager to get away from this conversation. "I think I'm going to go grab a drink. So I'll-uhm. I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Oh, no. Here. You can have a drink. It is from my homeworld. We call it Honeymeade," Thor said quickly. "No need to run off."

Peter eyed it suspiciously, then looked to Clint. "Is-is that alcohol?"

Clint grinned and shrugged. "You know. I wouldn't ask that. Plausible deniability and all that."

"Won't that be bad?" Peter asked, feeling like he was being tested somehow.

Clint huffed, rolling his eyes. "It's fine. I'll handle the Spider parents. I mean-what's the worst that could happen?"

Half an hour and two cups later, Clint, Thor and Peter were laying splayed out in a triangle on top of the air unit, all of their heads touching. It started with a bet of who could name the most constellations, but not one of them made it far, before they were pulled into a new conversation entirely, then another and another, until they couldn't even remember why they'd gotten up there to begin with, but none of them could find the motivation to move from their current positions.

"Clint, Buddy," Peter said, his arms stretched out on either side. His face was flushed with the heat of the alcohol in his veins, but the buzz was well worth it.  
He reached up and tapped on Clint's head, more roughly than he probably meant to. Clint winced with every pat, but accepted the affection happily. "Why do you gotta go, man? I'm gunna miss you so much."

"Really?" Clint asked, looking over at him.

"Yeah, of course," Peter said, sounding almost offended that he would think otherwise. "You're so funny and smart and awesome. I don't even remember what the Tower was like without you."

Clint chuckled half-heartedly at his slurred proclamation, staring at the dome above them. He rubbed at the slight aching in his chest. "Thanks, kid. I'll miss you too. I just gotta go see my wife and kids. They don't like when I'm gone this long

Peter nodded, his head rubbing against theirs. "No, yeah. Totally. I would go back to my family too, if I could. Plus, Thor will keep me company, won't you big guy?"

"Absolutely," Thor proclaimed. "I find that you are quite enjoyable to be around."

Clint chuckled. "You know, that's what sucks about all this. You guys are all my family too. I'm always missing out with one group or the other. Sometimes I wish we could all just live together."

Thor grunted his assent, hiccuping softly. "I too feel torn between my home world and Earth. It feels as if fate is pulling me in two directions."

"Yeah, I guess you win on the distance issue," Clint muttered.

"But it is a distance I happily cross," Thor said.

"What do you miss most when you're here? It has to be different right? I mean, you flipped when you had coffee the first time," Clint said.

Thor hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose I miss what most people miss. My friends. My bed. The beauty. The meade."

Clint huffed out a laugh. "The meade I believe, but the beauty? When did you become all sentimental?"

Thor didn't seem phased by the gentle teasing, his voice tinged with pride. "I enjoy pretty things, and as much as I love Earth, Asgard's scenery is beyond compare."

"I wish I could see it," Peter said, dreamily.

"Maybe one day," Thor said. "You would be welcomed as a friend."

Peter didn't let his mind run away with that thought, knowing he would never be able to think about anything else again if he did. Being at Stark Tower was amazing, but the possibility of traveling to whole new worlds was a concept he would leave sober Peter to explore.

"You know what I miss?" Peter asked, propping himself up on his elbows. His hair was a mess, and a few shirt buttons were undone. "Grass. I freaking love grass."

"Grass?" Clint snorted. "Thor, I think you gave him too much to drink."

"No I'm serious," Peter laughed, closing his eyes, leaning his head back, letting it hang freely. He could feel the blood washing behind his eyes, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was like a soft drum, thrumming like the wings of a hummingbird. "When I was a kid, we had this really thick green grass. A full yard of it. I never really had any in Queens, you know, because we didn't even have a yard, but I still remember how awesome it was."

Clint was closing his eyes too now, thoughts of the rolling grass on the farm painted in his mind. He hummed noncommittally. "Note to self: buy peter a plant."

"I know it's weird, but I think I liked it so much because of the dew. You know, that watery stuff that collects on it early in the morning? I used to go get the paper for my dad every morning before school barefoot because I loved the way it felt. It used to drive my mom crazy."

"I liked the grass too," Thor admitted, a wistful smile on his face. "I used to sit in the gardens and run my hands over the blades before my lessons, then paint with the water on the sidewalk. I forgot about it until now."

"Maybe it's a kid thing," Peter mused. "I honestly forgot about it too until Steve took me to the park the other day. Now I think about it all the time."

Peter didn't realize how sad he sounded, too far gone to worry about something as trivial as his tone of voice.

Clint tapped his fingers at his side. It felt a little wrong to pry when the kid was loose lipped and fuzzy, but curiosity won out. "Why don't you just ask him to take you again?"

Peter shrugged. "Because I know he'd say no. He doesn't even want to patrol with me anymore."

"What? Why?" Thor asked. "Was it not Steve who pushed for your patrolling to begin with, or was Loki mistaken?"

"Who knows," Peter muttered.

Clint wasn't the only one who could sense the downward spiral in Peter's mood.

"You sure it's the grass you miss, kid?" Clint asked.

There was no judgement in his voice, and Peter almost wondered if that was worse. His smile faded and he sighed heavily. Through his alcohol induced haze, Peter wasn't sure who Clint was implying he missed; his parents, his home, Steve. Any of them would be right though.

"Unfortunately it's possible to miss a whole bunch of stuff at once. Especially when you keep losing everyone."

The three sat in silence, watching the snow fall above them gliding down the sides of the glass, each of them thinking about all the people that they loved and lost, their families all but wiped from the world. The warmth of the alcohol seemed to dim, leaving them all feeling colder than they did before.

"Man. This got dark," Clint sighed.

"Does this make me an emotional drunk?" Peter thought out loud.

Thor laughed heartily. "I vow to show you that you are every type of drunk. You just need the right circumstances. Perhaps we will wait until you are older so Natasha and Tony will condone it. "

"Ha. Yeah. I'll look forward to it," Peter said earnestly.

Clint's hand patted against the ground searchingly until his hand hit his glass, and he held it high above his head until he was sure Peter and Thor could both see it. "To being superhero-level saps!"

"Here, here," Thor and Peter said together, lifting their own glasses. Peter finished off his glass, and it felt like he could suddenly feel every rotation of the earth, and he wasn't quite sure if he was still awake or asleep.

Peter started humming quietly to himself-was that Star Wars?-and Clint propped himself up to look over everyone at the party. To his surprise, Steve's eyes met his, before quickly averting them. Clint raised a brow as Steve took a drink from his waters

"So uhm," Clint started, his eyes staying steadily trained on Steve. "I know it's none of my business, but I don't think Steve meant what he said."

"About what?" Peter asked, eyes still closed.

Steve stiffened a little, but didn't move from where he sat next to Bucky and Sam.

"About not wanting to patrol with you."

Peter tsked. "Why wouldn't he? I'm kind of a pain in the ass. All I do is argue."

"I wish I could say you'd grow out if that, but look around? Aren't we all pains in the ass?"

Thor lifted his head from the cool concrete to grin at Clint. "Very true.”

"Well, doesn't really matter if he meant it or not," Peter said, shrugging, his words starting to slur a bit more as the last of the alcohol entered his system. Steve's brows furrowed slightly, leaning forward in his chair, focusing as he stared at the ground.

"What do you mean?" Thor asked.

"He won't ever take it back. Steve is amazing. The best, you know? But that's the thing about Steve. If he thinks he's doing the right thing, he won't take it back. He's wrong, but he thinks he's right, and that makes him dangerous," Peter quoted, his words blending together a little, his voice uneven. Peter bit the inside of his cheek. "Even if it's only to himself."

Steve's eyes didn't lift from the ground, but Clint could see there was a look of self-hatred in his features even from there.

Clint swallowed heavily. Well, hell. If the kid wasn't spot on with that assessment. Clint would follow Steve to the grave, but that was the problem, wasn't it? Some battles don't require sacrifice.

"You know what?" Peter said as he pulled himself to his feet. He swayed slightly, almost tipping over to one side before righting himself. "I miss Tony. Hey Tony!"

Peter waved eagerly at his guardian. Tony turned in a circle, looking for the source of the sound then looked high, squinting over at them. He quirked his head to the side sat his cup down, holding up a finger at Rhodey and Happy before excusing himself.

"Oh shit," Clint swore, his eyes widening comically. He stood, running over to Peter, his shoes sliding against the concrete as he scrambled to shush him. "No! What are you doing?"

Peter whipped around, stopping Clint's surprise attack with a hug.

"Dude you're going to get caught!" Clint said, frantically trying to push Peter's freakishly strong body away from him. "We gotta run for it."

Peter pulled away from Clint, not even bothered by his antics, and the whole world seemed to shift, making Peter's stomach turn.

"Whoa. I don't feel so good," Peter said, sounding more surprised than worried.

Thor immediately stood up, helping Clint keep him on his feet. Peter groaned, his limbs feeling like dead weight swinging at his sides. Clint was even more drunk than Thor, but between the two of them they managed to lower Peter off of the platform and onto the ground.

"I love you kid, but you puke on me, I will puke right back," Clint warmed, making Peter burst into a fit of drunken laughter.

"Perhaps I did pour a bit heavily in that last glass," Thor said, patting Peter like a dog. "My apologies, Spider Child."

Peter could hear voices and music playing, the sounds swirling together into a chaotic mess, but he didn't care much about them. His eyelids were too heavy, and everything felt warm and his mind was empty for the first time in forever.

"What happened?"

Uh oh. He recognized that voice. Angry Steeb.

Peter barked out a laugh. Ha! Steeb.

"We may or may not have given him some of Thor's honeymeade," Clint said beside him. "But he's fine. Right kid?"

Clint held his hand up by the wrist like a puppet, then talked out of the side of his mouth like a very poorly trained ventriloquist. "Peachy keen, broseph."

Peter held his head up long enough to scowl at Clint. "I do not talk like that. You suck at this."

Tony groaned, running a hand down his face. "You know Natasha is going to kill you right? Do you have a death wish?"

Clint frowned. "I mean, not like a specific one, no."

Thor nodded at Clint. "It is a very strange thing to ask a man."

Tony looked to the sky for guidance. Idiots. He was surrounded by idiots.

"Science class frog. That's how I want to go," Peter proclaimed, lunging forward a finger pointed high in the air. Clint stumbled, almost dropping Peter, but strong hands stopped him from hitting the ground. Peter straightened then looked hazily at Tony. "Hey. There's there's two of you! Man. I bet Natasha will love that!"

Tony sputtered, but Thor's laughter drowned out the words.

"I know you're pissed," Clint said, holding his hand out at Tony as if he were calming a lion. "But hear me out. That WAS pretty funny."

"How much did you give him?" Steve snapped.

"Aw, don't be mad, Steve," Peter pouted. "I didn't mean to make you mad."

Steve took a deep breath, but continued to glare between Clint and Thor.

Clint decided to push his luck a little. “Yeah, Cap. Don’t be mad. Have mercy.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

"I think I want to sit down," Peter said, trying to break from Clint and Thor's grip so he could walk to one of the tables.

"Watch it, kid," Clint chastised. "Unless you want to be flattened concrete frog instead."

"Just let go," Steve interjected, reaching out to take Clint's place. "You're going to drop him."

Clint knocked his hand away, and his expression darkening. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on between him and Peter, but he did know that Steve was being an ass. "I'm sure me and Thor are more than capable of handling him. Why don't you just go, huh? Or do you only care to stick around when the kid's too wasted to remember?"

"I swear to god," Peter mumbled. "I'm going to start calling you guys geezers and see how you like it."

Tony whistled lowly. "What's with the sudden hostility? Am I in the middle of a playground fight, or do I need to get Natasha, because I assure you I am not sober enough or well equipped enough to deal with anything more serious than that."

"I'm fine," Peter insisted, his words slurring. "I've got a badass healing factor. I'll be in tippity top shape before you know it."

Peter grinned up at Clint, who just rolled his eyes. "What the hell do they put in your alcohol in Magic Land, man?"

Thor just shrugged.

"Whatever it is, it gets me drunk with just one glass, so it must be good," Tony said, shaking his head. "He should probably go lay down."

"If you two won't let me take him to his floor, I'll go get blankets and he can sleep up here," Steve said, working to regain composure. "You two are just going to drop him on his face."

"Who cares if I bust my face up a bit?" Peter said, looking to Thor. "I've got a healing factor. It's rather good."

"So you've said," Thor smirked. "And one day I would like to see it, but perhaps not tonight, if you don't mind."

"We aren't letting you hurt yourself," Steve said in agreement. "Just because you have a healing factor doesn't mean we want you to use it."

Peter scoffed. "You're just mad because I'm awesome."

"Good to know the kid is a bit of a gloater," Tony commented, amused. "Not much of a sense of self-preservation though."

"Self-prersb-preserbate-" Peter huffed. "Whatever."' Can I lay down now?"

Tony crosses his arms and looked expectantly at Clint.

"Fine. You can go get the blankets," Clint sighed, feeling less defensive now that Steve actually seemed to want to help. "We will wait here with him. Just hurry up. He's heavy."

By the time Steve made it back with a pile of blankets and a few waters in hand, Peter was passed out on the cold concrete slab. Steve gave the small group a look of disapproval, but they didn't seem to notice.

"Over there would be best," Tony said, pointing back to the Air Unit where the three Big Dumbs were sitting while they drank. "He will be in the shade in the morning. No need for him to get a Hangover level sunburn."

Steve narrowed his eyes but nodded curtly and set to work making a thick palette of blankets, folding the larger ones to double up comfort. He made another trip down to grab pillows and a top blanket, making sure Peter wouldn't feel the hard ground before picking him up and moving him.

"Hey," Peter grumbled in protest. "Put me down."

"I would if I thought you could walk over there without cracking your head open," Steve said.

Peter frowned. "I could've."

"I'm sure," Steve said, placatingly. "Let me just do this my way though, okay?"

"Fine," he muttered.

Steve took advantage of his half-wakeful state to make him drink water.

"I'm-I'm-I've got it, Brooklyn," Peter said when Steve tried to hold it for him. "Believe it or not, I'm not a baby."

Steve didn't argue, just holding out two pills for him to take. Peter frowned, but popped them into his mouth without argument, finishing the rest of the water at Steve's urging. Peter fumbled the laces of his shoes clumsily before Steve helped him take those off too, then Peter finally settled in and laid down.

"You good here, Peter?" Clint asked from where he stood a few feet away with Tony. Thor went somewhere, but Peter couldn't really remember where. "I can stay a little bit longer if you're not."

A thumb shot up out of the mass of blankets covering Him. "All good."

Clint smirked, then crouched down looking over him apologetically. Clint wrinkled his nose at the smell of Honeymeade on Peter's breath, the smell sickeningly strong even with alcohol on his own breath. "I'm sorry you got sick, kid."

Peter blew a raspberry, waving him off. "Now who's the emotional drunk. I had fun. Feel sooo much better."

Steve watched over the two with a frown. He'd heard just enough bits and pieces of their conversation to know the meaning behind the sentiment.

Clint on the other hand smiled. "I'm glad. I'm-uh. I'm leaving in the morning but I'll see you in a week or two okay?"

Peter's smiled slowly fell, sobering a bit and he sat up. "Okay. Yeah. No problem. Just-just tell Lila I said hi for me, okay? And the others, even though I haven't met them yet."

Clint nodded gave Peter an affectionate hair tussle. "Sure thing."

Peter forced a smile, then laid back down. The three of them waited a moment to make sure he wasn't going to say anything more before Tony clapped his hands together.

"Alright, well. I'm going to do damage control, which, big middle finger at you and Thor for making me have to do, by the way," Tony said to Clint, raising a chastising finger. "I'll make sure to tell Nat last so you have time to find a hidey-hole until morning. Sound good?"

Clint let out a relieved sigh. "Oh thank god."

"I'll deny it if you tell her I helped you," Tony warned. "And I can't ensure Thor's survival."

Clint nodded solemnly. "That is a consequence I am willing to face."

The two of them left, Clint giving Steve a look that seemed to hold a lot more weight than Steve would have expected from him, before scurrying back inside the Tower. Steve sighed, rocking back on to his heels. Peter's eyes were closed, but Steve could still see his eyes twitching beneath the kids

"Do you feel any better?" he asked.

Peter pulled his blanket tighter against him and his eyes crinkled, lips twisting to the side in thought, blinking slowly. "If I tell you yes, are you goin’ to leave?"

Steve flinched. He deserved that, he guessed. "No. I'll sleep here tonight."

Peter nodded. "Like a sleepover. Jus', ya know. More awkward. No parents. Guess we didn't watch a movie either."

With each addition, Peter's brows furrowed further.

"No beds," Steve added, a small smile on his face.

"No beds," Peter agreed, vehemently. "No legos. Me and Ned always do legos when we have sleepovers."

"That sounds like fun," Steve said.

"Haven't played since I got to the Tower." Peter's hair was dangling in his face, and Steve had to fight back the urge to push it out of his eyes.

"You'll have to fix that," Steve said.

Peter's face crinkled. "Nah. No fun alone."

Neither of them spoke for a while, and Steve was beginning to think Peter had fallen asleep again. It was probably better if he did. Tony wasn't joking when he said Thor's honeymeade was strong, and more than that, it came up on you fast. That's why he and Bucky stuck to Bruce's stuff instead, even with the harsh taste. At least then you would be able to keep up with how much you were drinking.

Today was tougher than Steve expected. He knew that he would regret his decision to push Peter away, he did the moment it happened, but he didn't expect it to feel like this.

"How is it you're always finding trouble?" Steve muttered to himself. He grabbed one of the spare blankets and covered up, sitting with his back against the unit wall.

"I don't," Peter said, making Steve pause. "It finds me. It sounds the same, but it feels really, really different."

Steve didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything.

About a half hour later, Peter sat up and shrugged his vest off clumsily then rolled over and was now snoring softly. Steve watched his back, just thinking over the day for a while, when Bucky came and sat down beside Steve. He settled in, his knees tucked up and picked up a piece of gravel, rolling it between his fingers with his elbows resting on his knees.

"Heard he was pretty sloshed," Bucky said, peering over at Steve.

Steve let out a long breath. "Sloshed doesn't even cover it. He could barely walk."

"Wish I could've seen it," Bucky smirked. "You going to head down soon?"

Steve glanced around and realized that the music had stopped and everyone was gone. He must have been sitting there longer than he thought.

"I think I'm just going to stay here for the night. Keep an eye on him."

"Are you two okay?" Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head, dragging his foot back and fort over the gravel. "No. We're not. Probably won't be."

Bucky was expecting as much. After his talk with Sam, then the way Steve acted checked out all night, it was the only think that made sense. "Well, I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

"He's a good kid," Steve said, his voice frustratingly even. "It was the right choice.

Bucky looked from Steve's face to the mass of blankets in front of him, and not for the first time, he wasn't sure Steve was right.

Bucky pulled his flask from his pocket, handing it to Steve, but he shook his head. Alcohol wouldn't fix anything. It hadn't earlier that night and it wouldn't now.

Bucky hated seeing Steve like this. He had to watch Steve pull on a strong face for weeks after they left Tony in that icy cave, even when he heard Steve wake up screaming his name at night. He had to watch Steve cry silent tears at his mother's wedding, too afraid of looking weaker than he did already to allow himself to grieve properly. Now, here he was, pretending he wasn't ripping his own heart from his chest, and for what?

Bucky knew this was at least in part his fault. He drilled it into Steve's brain that he wasn't going to accept Peter, knowing that Steve would take the words to heart, but Bucky didn't want this. All he was trying to do was protect him. He was trying to keep him from going through the hell that was the first year Bucky was back all over again, but this didn't feel like he was helping Steve. It was hurting him.

Steve's sketchbook seemed to grow heavier in his pocket, like it had developed its own gravity that was intent on pulling itself to the ground. Bucky pursed his lips and made a spur of the moment decision, pulling it out and placing it in Steve's lap.

"Are you sure about that?"

Steve's brows furrowed, then his throat tightened. "Where did you get that?"

"Fell out of your bag," Bucky said. "Doesn't matter though. I mean what I said the other night."

Steve's hands gripped into fists. "I get it. You think he's hydra. You've made that clear."

Shit. Well this wasn't going the way Bucky was expecting it to.

"No. I mean that I love you. You're like my brother, and I would never want to tear you away from someone you actually care about," Bucky explained. He looked up at the dark sky, resting his head against the brick wall. "I know I've been hard on the kid, but I really do want you to be happy, even if I don't always act like it. I still don't trust him completely, but I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. For you."

The two men were quiet for a moment then Steve let out a self-deprecating sound. "I don't know if I could fix this if I wanted to."

Bucky rubbed on his knee with a sharp intake of breath between his teeth, then released it loudly l, puffing out his cheeks. "Never took you for the givin' up kind anyway."

"Yeah, well. I'm not sure if this is something I should have had to begin with."

"I think you and I both know that isn't true, but I guess that's somethin' you need to think about."

Steve nodded at the ground, his heart pounding.

"It's getting late. Or really damn early," Bucky said, planting a firm hand on Steve's shoulder, before pulling himself up with a groan. "I'm going to go sleep in a bed like a normal person. Enjoy your cement and posh blankets."

"Ha. Thanks. I'll definitely try," Steve said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Stevie."

*****

When Peter woke up, it was still dark. It took him a while to figure out where he was, but when he sat up and saw Steve eating a slice of pizza as he looked down at something in his lap, fuzzy memories slowly started creeping back. Peter smacked his lips, disgusted at the dry taste in his mouth.

Steve heard the slight shuffling and looked up, dropping a pencil to his side and he hurriedly swallowed the bite of in his mouth. He brushed the crumbs off on his pants and sat up. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Peter said, not quite sure how he felt about that. He didn't miss the sick feeling but he could definitely see the appeal of the lack on inhibitions. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I didn't drink much. Not compared to you anyway," he teased. "No headache?"

Peter shook his head, yawning. "A little hungry though. You got any more of that?"

Steve chuckled. "Yeah. Took the whole box. I have some more water too, if you want some."

"Please."

Steve scooted the box over to the space between them and handed him the water. Peter drained half the bottle in just a few gulps, amazed at how great it tasted.

With everyone gone and the strings of lights no longer on, the roof was dark and quiet, more closely resembling the way he was used to seeing the space. It seemed strange to Peter how much different it could look with just a few details changed. How could the same space turn from looking like it could be site of a beautiful, A-Lister’s wedding party, to feeling so empty and oppressive. Or maybe it was all in Peter’s head.

Peter looked out at the snow, falling in flurries now, and he realized how cold it had gotten, his body shaking with a shiver before breaking out in goosebumps.

"Here," Steve said, shrugging off his brown leather jacket as he noticed Peter begin to rub at his arms. “You’re going to get sick.”

Peter had to blink away his surprise before he could force himself to speak. “No thank you. I'm okay. I'll just cover back up."

"How are you going to eat?" Steve asked, pausing with his arms half out of his jacket.

"I'm sure I'll manage," Peter said with a faux smirk, pulling the blankets over his shoulders. It didn’t work great, and the blankets slid off his shoulders if he moved too quickly, but it would have to do.

"Right," Steve said, softly. His face heated a little as he tried to occupy himself with reaching for another slice of pizza. He felt stupid for even offering his jacket. Of course Peter wasn't going to take it after everything that happened that morning. Steve all but shoved him out the door.

The next few minutes. Steve watched the blanket continue to fall, but he kept silent, continuing to eat his slice of pizza, seemingly deep in thought. He went ahead and took his jacket after a minute, placing it easily within reach of Peter, but didn’t press the matter.

Peter acted like he didn’t see it at all, but felt a tinge of guilt the longer it sat, unused. He didn't like brushing Steve off but he couldn't let him do this switching between being nice and caring, then pushing him away when things got complicated. It wasn’t fair for either of them, no matter how badly Peter wanted to be enveloped in the sweet smell of Steve’s big leather jacket.

They made their way through the the whole box of pizza, Steve filling the silence by recounting some events of the night, like Bucky and Natasha going shot for shot until they decided to both tap out, and Sam’s accident over by the pool table, but by the time they finished, Peter was at his limit. Everything felt too normal, and that seemed to hurt much more knowing that he would probably lose this all over again in the morning. He sighed, standing up.

"You know, we should probably head down. The sun will probably be up soon,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. “I'll come grab all these blankets in the morning.” .

Steve looked at the bedding, then back to Peter as his heart sank. “You sure you’re up for that? I don’t want you to be by yourself if you get sick.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Besides, I don’t want either of us waking up miserable. I used to sleep on a bed not much softer than this but I think my back has grown accustomed to Tony’s super expensive beds,” Peter joked. “But uh-thanks for staying with me. I really do appreciate it.”

"Oh. Yeah. Anytime," Steve said, frowning.

Peter's eyebrows raised and fell quickly, like he wasn't quite sure he believed that, but didn't comment on it. Peter grabbed his shoes and started to stand up, but Steve quickly moved forward, grabbing his arm gently.

"Wait," he said, the cement hard on his knees. "I know that I haven’t been fair, but think we should talk about last night before you go."

Peter shook his head, sitting back down on the blankets. "Don’t worry about it. It’s okay. We're good. Really.”

He attempted to pull his arm away but Steve's fingers stayed as firmly planted as possible without actually squeezing.

”It doesn’t feel like we’re good. How we left things... I haven’t stopped thinking about it all day,” Steve said. “It’s been hard, though. It seemed the longer I thought about it, the more muddled my thoughts got, like playing in muddy water. I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t seeing clearly, but I never really gave everything a chance to settle.”

Peter frowned at the blankets, running a hand over the wrinkles with his free hand to smooth the wrinkles. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I was wrong, for one,” Steve said, slowly. Peter's eyes looked up with a slight pull in his brow, but his face stayed otherwise impassive. “Everything that I said last night about not wanting to patrol and stuff, I didn’t really mean it. I did at the time, but I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.”

Peter sighed.

"You don't have to do this. If Clint jumped all over you, or Tony or whoever, don't let them make you feel bad, or whatever is happening here. They're just overprotective."

"Nobody said anything to me," Steve pressed. “I know this sounds stupid, but last night was a lot. I know that isn’t a very good excuse, but it’s true. I’m not used to feeling overwhelmed. I should have listened to you when you tried to tell me just to talk but I felt like I was drowning. I'm not supposed to feel so out of control."

Steve finally released his arm and Peter rubbed the spot where Steve had been holding it as he eyed Steve. He should take the chance to walk away, but Peter really did want to hear him out. He wanted to understand why everything went so wrong. "I don't understand."

"The nightmare I had, it was about you. If I’m being honest, probably the most terrifying one I’ve ever had. It was-well, that’s not important," Steve amended, looking away. "After everything calmed down, I was better, but I couldn't stop thinking about everything going on and how much I've started relying on our friendship. How much I enjoyed everything that was happening, despite everything else that happened."

Steve gave Peter a small smile. "You have a tendency to do that. You make even the worst situations better. I don't know when I came to need you around, but it seemed to hit me all at once."

Peter's heart was pounding. He wanted to believe it was true, but he wasn't sure how he could.

”I realized that I think about you all the time. I’ll be doing normal things, like planning my work outs, or trying to decide what to eat, and I catch myself planning my day around you,” Steve said. “What you like to eat, what you’re concerned about or struggling with, hell, I even plan my computer time around your school schedule.” Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s like you’ve invaded my mind and my space without me noticing, and now that I have, I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you were gone.”

"So-what?” Peter asked, his heart in his throat. “You want to go back to the way we were? Forget everything that happened?”

Steve licked his lips and shook his head. "No. That's not what I want."

Peter reared back, hurt flashing in his feature for only a moment before he scowled at the ground, feeling stupid for getting sucked into this conversation. 

“Then what do you want from me?” He asked forcefully.

In one quick movement, Steve pulled Peter down, twisting him around until he had Peter pinned to the ground by his hands, his eyes wide.

"I want everything," Steve said sincerely as he loomed over him.

Peter let out a rush of air, not from the heavy press of Steve's weight on his chest, but from the absolute thrill of finally feeling Steve against him. It was like Steve took sole possession over his mind in an instant, any doubt being washed away with every beat of his heart. All he could focus on was the heat radiating from each point of contact. The soft bursts of cool breath wafting over his flushed skin. The gentle smell of fresh linen. The shadow of stubble across Steve's jaw.

Peter wanted to drown in him.

"I want you to forgive me," he said softly, shaking his head at himself. "I want you to know that whatever it is this feeling is I have for you, it's not going away."

Steve's heart was pounding, feeling almost intoxicated by the beautiful sight in front of him. The blood that rose and tinted Peter's cheeks was lovely, like soft pastels or maybe watercolor, and even though he'd seen Peter blush a hundred times, in this moment it was more somehow, like finally letting himself feel opened his eyes to everything he would have missed out on. How he ever managed to convince himself he could live without this, he would never know. 

He soaked in the slight part of his pink lips and the rapid thrumming of his heart against Steve's chest. He never thought he’d see it, but he did now; Peter was feeling the same pulsing electricity in his veins, the same magnetic force pulling them together. He wondered if Peter's lips were as soft as they looked, how he tasted, how his hair would feel between his fingers...

"Um," Peter swallowed heavily past the thick want in his throat, squirming slightly. He wanted nothing more than to keep his mouth shut and just wait and enjoy whatever the hell was happening right now, but his brain was screaming that he needed to get up, get Steve off of him before he could notice just how much Peter was enjoying it. "Steve-"

Steve pressed further into him, then melted when Peter anxiously took his lip between his teeth to keep from moaning, a heated jolt shooting down his spine. Peter only barely kept himself from grinding upward, his body eager to find friction.

Steve wondered if he'd gone too far, until Peter's eyes fluttered open again and saw that his irises had almost been completely enveloped by the darkness of his pupils. "Is this okay, Queens?"

Steve's voice was thick and soft with desire, but less strained than he expected it to be. Peter's mouth dried at the sound of it, and he could feel the ache of his need for Steve growing with every passing second. Knowing there was no way he could form words in this state, he nodded.

Steve tilted his face forward, slowly creeping ever closer until the tip of his nose brushed against Peter's. Peter inhaled sharply, a shiver enveloping his entire body, but this time not from the cold. Even then he was unable to close his eyes out of fear of missing one moment of this obvious alcohol-poisoning induced dream.

"You sure?" Steve whispered. His fingers untwined from Peter's, gliding across his palm and down the hypersensitive skin of his arm before resting on the side of Peter's face. He brushed his thumb over Peter's cheekbone. Peter gently lifted his head off of the floor, and he could feel Steve's breath ghosting across his lips.

"Absolutely.”

Peter held his breath as Steve's eyes searched for any sign of uncertainty.

"I really want to do this," Steve said finally, closing the distance between them and bringing their lips together. The kisses were soft and hesitant, despite the aching fire that exploded through both of them, and it took all of Peter’s control not to explore Steve’s body with his hands. He finally let his eyes close, his heart swelling, trying to trap every feeling inside. When Steve was sure Peter wasn't pulling away, he deepened the kiss, the gentle slide of Steve's tongue across his bottom lip making Peter weak, pulling a soft noise of appreciation from him as he allowed Steve in.

Steve finally gave in to his own desire, letting his fingers comb through Peter's silky hair, gripping the back of his head as he swallowed the sound of Peter’s small honey-laced noises. Out of breath, Peter turned his mouth to Steve's neck mumbling something indistinct against his skin as he peppered kisses along his perfect jawline, leaving a hot trail tapering down his neck. Peter sucked lightly, and the thought of Peter’s mouth working against his skin sent a pang of arousal shooting through him. Steve's cold hand slipped into Peter's shirt, his hand dragging across every line of his lithe body and Peter gasped, unwittingly rolling his hips upward, pulling a pleasure filled groan from Steve.

"You're perfect," He whispered, nibbling at Peter's bottom lip. "I know I messed up but-"

Peter hurriedly captured his lips again, not wanting to think about anything but what was happening here and now. He shifted, eager to pull off Steve's shirt and Steve took the hint, lifting up obligingly. Peter tossed it away, eyes drinking in every inch on bulk in awe, before pulling him back down.

"It's okay," Peter panted between kisses. "More than okay. Amazing."

Steve chuckled into the kiss, their teeth clashing together from their hopeless grins. Their grins turned to laughs, until they had to stop kissing completely from the absurdity of it all.

“We are ridiculous, you know that right?” Peter asked against his lips.

Steve gave him another quick kiss, then laid beside Peter with a contented sigh, pulling him flush against him. Peter instinctively wrapped his arm around him, tangling their legs together as he settled his head on Steve’s arm. 

“We?” Steve asked, playfully. “Is that what we are going with?”

“I’m sorry, were you not the one who was trying to apologize in the middle of kissing?” Peter teased back. 

Steve let out an exaggerated sigh, trying to hide his lopsided smile as he traced his fingers up and down Peter’s arm. “I suppose it was. I guess we will just have to be ridiculous together.”

“Together,” Peter thought out loud. “So-uh. You know, that wasn’t how I expected tonight to end, but I can’t say I’m too upset about it.”

Except for the fact that he was still embarrassingly hard against Steve’s leg, but they hopefully had plenty of time to get to that point.

“Me either,” Steve said into his hair. “It wasn’t too much?”

Peter laughed. “Honestly? I probably wouldn’t have taken you seriously if you’d done it any other way. It was perfect.”

Steve grinned. “Glad to hear it.”

Steve looked up at the dome, and for the first time that night he truly appreciated the beauty of it.

”I debated skipping the party. Especially when I could decide what to wear. Almost ran out when I saw everybody else, but Natasha made me stay,” Peter admitted. “Now I’m really glad she did. Especially since it’ll probably be the last party I ever go to.”

”What? Why?” Steve asked. 

“Well if Natasha doesn’t kill me, Mr. Stark is probably going to ground me for the rest of my life,” Peter said, only half sure he was joking.

“From what? Your phone?” Steve asked. “It’s not like you can go anywhere.”

“Maybe he will ground me from you.”.

Steve considered that a moment. “You’re pretty sneaky. We’d figure it out.”

“Really?” Peter asked, looking up at him. “You would want to?”

Steve squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “Now that I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere.”

Peter liked the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys thought! I miss hearing from you😭
> 
> Also, I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong, but my image will not embed in the text, so if you would like to see the picture I edited of Steve and Peter kissing, here is the link to it on my tumblr: https://infernal-panda.tumblr.com/post/631484817612144640/who-is-ready-for-chapter-15


	16. Ohhhh, Shit. It’s About to Go Down!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much! Sexy times, drama, and Hydra!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I’m so sorry that this chapter took so long to put out, but that would be because there are literally four 700-1000 word variations of this floating around in the universe.
> 
> The good thing, though, is that if you would like to see how I originally started this chapter(Peter and Steve waking up together on the roof) you can check it out on my Tumblr.  
> https://infernal-panda.tumblr.com/post/635107461054005248/alternate-beginning-chapter-16-real-chapter
> 
> Some things will be repeated from here(because I couldn’t bear to scrap it) but I hope you guys like it.
> 
> Also.
> 
> I’m glad you guys have been commenting so much! I always love hearing from you and seeing what you like and don’t like.  
> With that being said, I wanted you guys to know that I made a decision that I’m not sure if you will love me or hate me for. I’ve been working on planning out the next couple of chapters, and I realized there is so much that I wanted to do that I just don’t feel comfortable rushing and there are some new things I didn’t get to introduce but REALLY want to. Writing these chapter like episodes as opposed to normal chapters has left so many things that can be opened up and I am really excited for the initial explosion and everything that can come afterward. So I’ve decided. Instead of trying to cram everything into 5-6 chapters and cutting out a lot of the amazing things I had planned, I am going to finish it the way I originally planned, then make a Part Two continuing the story. I really hope you guys stick with me and don’t get too upset that I’m making two parts! I love you guys and I can’t wait to see more of you!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: kind of explicit content? Needles. Violence.
> 
> If you guys see anything else I need to add, just let me know.

Clint was not a bad guy.

In fact, if you asked probably any of the Avengers, they would say he was awesome. He was selfless. Obviously the comedic relief of the group. He loved his friends like family. He was a great dad and husband. He may have done some things in his life that he regretted, but everyone has a story.

Right now, though, he didn't feel like a good guy. He was dirt. Lower than dirt even. He was dirt that some nasty grimy worm had already eaten and pooped out again. (That's how that worked right? They ate dirt?)

The doors of the lab slid open and Bruce stopped where he was pacing. He didn't look much better than Clint felt which only made him feel worse. He knew for a fact that Bruce was one of two that didn't drink that night, yet he looked more hungover than Clint did that one weekend he and Natasha shared in Budapest.

"He drank it?"

Clint walked slowly over to the chair a few feet from Bruce. "Yeah. All of it."

"No other alcohol?"

"Only from the bottle you gave me." Bruce's face contorted into a strange expression, trying and failing to hide it by taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. "I had to recruit Thor, but he thought it was just watered down HoneyMeade."

Clint had quite a few talents, but he especially prided himself on his ability to read people. Natasha had been a great teacher. It was frustrating, to say the least, at how confused he was by this situation. By what little information he had, Bruce's reaction didn't make sense. The concern in his voice, the disappointment of Clint doing exactly what he asked...

"Thank you. I guess that makes us even then."

Clint nodded, but he didn't stand.

"Listen, Bruce. I know you said no questions asked, but-"

Bruce shook his head, making Clint stop. "I'm sorry, but that was part of the deal."

"I know." Clint averted his eyes to the ceiling, his stomach twisting. "I know that, but I can tell this is bothering you. You learned something you didn't like, that's obvious. I just don't see how keeping it to yourself is a good idea."

"I-“ Bruce’s stern expression faltered. Why did he think this was going to be easy? Just a quick in and out, shake hands, and be done, huh? Clint wasn't just some guy hired to do a job. Of course he was going to be concerned. "I can't say anything yet, but hopefully soon. I still have tests to do. Maybe when I have something definitive."

Clint stared at Bruce until he was noticeably uncomfortable.

"This sucks. I just want you to know that."

Bruce's eyebrows rose and fell. "Trust me. I do."

"The kid said he was going to miss me," Clint said, smiling sadly, rapping a knuckle on the cold metal table. "Told me to tell my daughter hi. He helped her on her homework the other night, did I tell you that?"

Bruce frowned, sympathetically.

"I get if you can't tell me yet, but whatever you found out, no matter how bad it is, just try to remember that."

Clint waited expectantly until Bruce gave him a small nod. What Clint didn’t realize was that his mind wasn’t clouded by all of the vicious possibilities, just waiting to prove him a monster. It was thoughts like the ones that Clint just shared that had him hesitating.

"Alright then. I have a jet to catch before Natasha can find me. Please try to remind Thor how amazing I am and how lonely he would be if he killed me while I'm gone if he survives."

Bruce huffed a breath out of his nose, the ghost of a smirk on his face. "I'll do my best. No promises it'll help any though."

Clint heaved a heavy sigh. "Yep. I was afraid of that. Take care of the loons."

Bruce nodded and Clint left. Bruce took his seat, nibbling at the inside of his bottom lip. He patted his lab coat pockets, then pulled out a sheet of paper. His eyes glided across the page, then he crumpled it up and tossed it to across the table.

Tonight was a last ditch effort to disprove his suspicions and it failed. What that meant for him, for Peter, for all the Avengers, he didn't know. What he did know, though, was that he couldn't keep hiding this from everyone, no matter how much Tony wanted to.

****

The next morning, not long after the sun started to rise, Natasha stepped on to the roof with two cups of coffee in hand, still wearing Tony's night shirt and sleep pants. Her hair fell in soft, slightly fuzzed waves over her shoulders, showing just how quickly she'd gone from the comfort of her bed to the kitchen, but there was a pep in her step unusual for the early morning hour.

The day seemed to match her mood, beautiful and bright despite the grey clouds looming overhead, and there was still a pleasant chill in the air. She looked around, unsure exactly where her little delinquent had fallen asleep then spotted the blankets in the shadows of the air unit.

The crunching of gravel beneath her shoes slowed as she got close, her eyes narrowing. There was not one, but two pairs of feet peeking from the blankets, and the small palette closest to the unit was abandoned. She was confused only for a moment before a bleary-eyed Steve's head lifted from the pillow.

Steve seemed confused as well, trying to figure out why the hell he was outside and what was pinning him down. The two met eyes and Steve looked down to where Peter was still snoring softly, mouth agape and sprawled out over him. So that answered that. Steve's face drained of color at his still-bare chest.

Natasha raised a brow. This was certainly a new development.

"I was just-" Steve started, but the sound caused Peter to shift, his brows furrowing.

Steve carefully worked to peel back the blankets, but apparently Peter was having none of it, his immediate response to nuzzle in closer into the warmth, burying his head against Steve's arm. Steve let out a quietly amused huff, his heart swelling in spite of himself, and after some very delicate maneuvering, he finally managed to wriggle himself free of his comfy prison.

Peter smacked his lips as he clutched onto the pillow Steve recruited to stand in his stead, and Natasha had to actively work to keep her stony expression, her cheek up-ticking with the effort.

Steve worked on pulling his shirt on as he stepped away carefully, rubbing his hand through his hair, trying to smother the troublesome strays. Natasha held out one of the cups.

"Get cold?"

It sounded like an innocent question, but even in her stoicism, the wryness in her voice gave her teasing away. It was obvious from her reaction that she thought their sleeping arrangement happened by accident, or perhaps not by accident, but definitely not with the intentions they had laid by each other with. He could have played it off, acted like it was something less than what it was, but there was no point in holding off.

Steve hesitantly searched Natasha's face, hoping she didn't notice the trifle of a blush rising up his neck, and squared his jaw mulishly. "Not exactly, no."

Natasha stared at him, waiting for Steve to explain further. He just took a long drink. "Is that so?"

Steve gave a single, trying-for-casual nod, but it just barely missed the mark.

Natasha found herself intrigued. Her eyes flashed back to where Peter was laying, his hair a wild mess. At first, she thought it was funny in a cute kind of way, but if their cuddling was purposeful, that was something different altogether. Not that she didn't expect this to happen eventually, but with the two actively acting like the most adorable dunderheads she'd ever met, she didn't expect it to be so soon.

Then something occurred to her.

She narrowed her eyes at Steve. "He wasn't drunk was he?"

Steve's nose scrunched up in disgust, there and gone. Of course not. He never would have let any of that happen if he was. Steve may have done some dumb stuff in the past, but he would never take advantage of Peter like that. "Completely sober. We were up for a bit before-before we talked."

"Good. I'd hate to have to string you from the side of the tower after I've grown so attached to you," she said easily.

"If he would've been, I'd have done it myself," Steve replied thinly.

Natasha hummed. "So you made up your mind then? About what Tony talked with you about."

Steve nodded again.

Natasha's glare lingered for a long moment then her lips slowly slid into a smug smile. She slapped a small hand on his shoulder, knocking him off balance, and took a drink from what was supposed to be Peter's coffee. "Alright then. Too bad for Kristen in Statistics."

Steve gaped incredulously as Natasha turned on her heel and walked back to the door, calling over her shoulder, "Tell Peter he's expected to be at lunch. You and the others too, but I'll let them know. I'm sure you two have a bit of talking to do."

Steve let his head fall back as the door shut and released a breath, feeling like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders. That went so much better than he ever imagined. Steve walked back over to where Peter was sleeping, and rolled his eyes fondly. 

Peter was an awkward sleeper on his best day, all gangly limbs and soft snores, but it didn't really bother Steve. Honestly, it only made him seem more adorable, like a quirky little puppy or maybe a strangely cuddly octopus, stretching out and falling asleep in any position possible. He wondered if he always slept like that, or if it was only when he was exhausted. They'd stayed up most of the night, just talking like they always had. It was comforting in a way, that things hadn't changed too drastically. 

Seeing Peter so relaxed and content, his fingers itched for his sketch pad. After the third time of glancing over to it, he finally grabbed it where it lay abandoned on his own small palette.

His thoughts only grew as his pencil sketched out his outline, branching out into thoughts of the future with every detail. He wondered what his and Peter's relationship would look like. Would they be more like Bruce and Loki, or Natasha and Tony? How often he would get to wake up beside him? He wondered if any day could ever possibly measure up to the feelings coursing through him today, despite having thought that numerous times since having met Peter.

There would be issues, he was sure, not only with the complicated feelings between him and Bucky, but with the others too. He wasn't certain how everyone was going to take the news of them going together-or whatever it was they were doing-, and he still had his own fears to conquer, but he wouldn't let it get to him. He couldn't do that to Peter again.

Steve noticed the heaviness of his lines and shook his hand free of the thoughts. They would have plenty of time to worry about all of that. For now...

Steve's hand hung limply from his knee, and he thought, just for a moment, that he could watch Peter sleep forever.

That is until he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep. It was nonsense, hardly even words at all through his sleep slurred speech, but there was something so sweet and innocent about it Steve couldn't hold back and longer, and he dropped his notebook to wrap his arms around Peter, pressing a soft kiss on his neck by his ear.

"Good morning," he crooned against his skin.

Peter blinked slowly at the familiar strong and steady timbre vibrating against his ear, eyes glassy and bloodshot, but his face lit up with a surge of pure exaltation when Steve came into focus. Peter was fully ready to accept the night before as a fluke, a poor lapse in judgement on Steve's part, but with the way those blue eyes were looking at him, it seemed to be anything but.

"Hey," he replied, his smile warm and sleepy-soft as he stretched against Steve. "How long have you been up?"

"Not long. Maybe half an hour."

"Ah man. You could've woken me up. I bet I was snoring all over you," Peter said.

"You were," Steve assured him, passing him his notebook. "You even sleep talked. It was adorable."

Peter barked out a laugh. "Did you just Edward Cullen me?"

Steve huffed, smiling at his strange reaction. "I don't know what that means, but I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, maybe we will skip that one. The books aren't bad, but the acting for the movie is horrendous. Almost hilarious really, but it's kind of embarrassing to watch, you know? Unless you're into that kind of thing. It's MJ's guilty pleasure, even if she denies it to everyone else. Uhm, anyway," Peter forced himself to stop rambling. "How'd you sleep?"

Steve propped himself up on his elbow. Amazing. Fantastic even. No tossing and turning, no staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours. It was the best he'd slept in probably years.

"Great. What about you? Miss your bed?" Steve asked with a lopsided smile.

"Nope. I actually slept like a rock."

"I saw that," Steve mused, running a hand down Peter's arm. "You missed Nat bringing you coffee and everything."

Peter perked, awed. "Coffee?"

Steve chuckled, rolling his eyes. He should have known that's all Peter would hear. The kid got excited about a lot of things, but coffee and science were two things guaranteed to get a smile. Steve sat up and plucked his own coffee cup off the ground and handed it over. Peter took it eagerly but he tilted his head slightly as he pulled the cup away.

It was sweet, but not overly so. Just the right amount of sugar, vanilla creamer and bitterness, so unlike his usual almost chalk white coffee.

"Is this yours?"

Steve nodded.

"Wow," Peter said, taking another drink. "This is amazing."

Steve took the cup, then dropped his head down to kiss Peter slowly, sealing their lips together softly before allowing his tongue to dip into his mouth, dragging across his bottom lip. Steve relished in the sweetness, and the slight intake of Peter's breath, then pulled away and licked his own lips. Peter's gaze was transfixed on the movement, his heart doing a painful little dance in his chest. Holy hell.

"Yeah. Tastes great," Steve agreed, eyes mirthful.

Peter blinked and swallowed loudly, his face warming. This time yesterday he thought he'd seen every side of Steve. The dorky, the confident, the good and the bad, everything, but man was he wrong. Sexy Steve was going to take some getting used to.

Not that he minded. Peter wanted more. Craved it. He could still feel the ghost of Steve's warm hands all over his body, the gentle rock of his hips, hear the sound of his labored breathing...

"Do you have any plans for today?"

"What?" Peter's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Oh. Me? Uhm. No. Nothing except school stuff. Why?"

“I was just wondering if you wanted to spend the day together,” Steve said. “If you have school stuff, though-“

”No! I mean I do, but maybe, we could, you know? Do what we usually do?”

Steve let out a short laugh. “Breakfast first?”

Peter grinned. “Breakfast first.”

That was how an hour later, Steve found himself peering over the top edge of his laptop at Peter as he sat crouched over his notebook, malcontentedly biting the end of his pencil. Whatever he was working on, Steve was beginning to worry those little concentration lines on his forehead would carve themselves a permanent spot after being there for so long. Peter frowned even deeper, shaking his head incredulously at something he'd written, then muttered something to himself that sounded suspiciously like, "god I'm dumb" as he fumbled in his bag for an eraser.

It had become kind of a ritual of theirs, before all of hell broke loose, for them to spend time together like this, both just going through the boring and mundane parts of their day together. It was much needed after the week they had, since Peter hadn't exactly been making a lot of time for his studies. Luckily, in his infinite boredom predating said hell, he'd gotten ahead in most classes, but even still, there was a decent amount of work he needed to get done before he had any free time today.

Not that Steve minded.

It was something he was glad to have back. Especially now. It was nice to fall back on old habits.

Now that Steve had a bit of time to reflect on it, perhaps that was one of the reasons he was so scared to admit his feelings for Peter. Their friendship meant a lot to him, and not knowing how letting it be more than that would change them, and everyone around them, was something he didn't want to think about.

To his surprise, being together hadn't been awkward or strange, not in the slightest.  
It was normal, just them being them, the same way they'd always been. Sure, they were a bit more touchy, the way Steve's hand lingered on Peter's side earlier that morning as he reached over him to grab the peanut butter, or how Peter elbowed him slightly when Steve joked about the unholy amount of jelly Peter was lathering on, but they were still the same.

Even the others seemed to be taking their new relationship in stride, if breakfast that morning was any indicator, but Steve had the sneaking suspicion that was Natasha's doing. He imagined once the threats wore off, Tony would have plenty of jokes to make.

Certain things had changed between them, though.

Peter no longer hesitated when he walked into the room, looking around before finally settling on the opposite side of the couch, or on the floor at the coffee table, but instead sprawled out next to him, like a quirky puppy or perhaps more accurately a strangely cuddly octopus, stretching his gangly limbs and getting comfortable in the positions Steve couldn't even imagine finding comfortable. It was equally endearing and impressive how even now, sitting with his back against the arm rest, Peter's legs somehow found a way to entangle in Steve's in a way that was actually comfortable. The closeness was nice, too.

Steve forced his eyes back to his laptop, but kept finding his attention straying from his work back to Peter's sun kissed profile, eyes glancing again and again at the long beautiful lashes casting shadows on his sharp cheekbones, highlighting the feather-light freckles peppering his skin. Even his hair, which was unkempt and fluffed from his quick shower this morning looked soft enough to touch. Maybe it was because he was new at all of this, his strange obsession with all the tiny details that made Peter whole, or maybe it was the artist in him, but regardless he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

"Like what you see?" Peter asked, his eyes still trained on his paper.

Steve didn't miss a beat. "Sure do. Even the little pencil smudge on your face."

Peter's eyes shot up, his hand moving impulsively to wipe it away, until he saw the mirth sparkling in Steve's eyes.

"Ha-ha. Very funny. What about all that Upbabe on yours?"

Steve huffed out a confused laugh, setting his laptop on the coffee table. He was obviously done with emails for now. "The what?"

"Upbabe," Peter deadpanned, his cheek upticking slightly.

"What's upbabe?"

Peter cackled. "Just working on homework. What about you?"

It took Steve a moment to process what was said, then he gave Peter a lopsided grin, digging his sock covered toes into Peter's ribs, where he had miraculously learned during one of their heated sessions the night before that Peter was especially ticklish. Something about the spider bite had made his skin hypersensitive, and Steve planned on using that knowledge to his benefit. It had the desired effect. Peter yelped, flailing away and almost falling off the couch, but that only made Steve let out an evil cackle of his own.

"Oh, you're going to regret that, Brooklyn," Peter warned, pushing his things onto the floor. Papers spread out everywhere, but Peter didn't seem to care.

"I'm shaking," Steve said in a bored tone, but the look on his face was just daring Peter to try something. "I mean, just look at what you did to that science book. What if I'm next?"

Steve faked a little shiver.

"It was math, you jerk!"

Peter surged forward a wild grin on his face, tucking his arms under Steve's and lifting him up in a bear hug, quickly pivoting in place to slam him into the opposite side of the couch where Peter had lain just moments before, pinning him down with his body. Steve blinked, frozen in place by the show of strength, but Peter didn't seem to notice, nuzzling his face into Steve's neck. He tucked into a ball on Steve's chest, straddling his hips.

"Now you're never getting up."

That seemed to pull Steve from his trance. He let out a starstruck, airy laugh and forced his limbs to move, wrapping his arms around Peter's back.

"You won't hear me complaining. This is the worst revenge ever."

"Lies. You're just mad because I pinned you."

"I'll admit it was impressive," Steve granted, amused. "Where is all that power when we are training?"

Peter lifted his head. "What do you mean? I was just playing around."

"Exactly," Steve snorted. "You're doing a lot better than when we first started, but I've never seen you do anything like that."

Peter tapped his fingers against Steve's shoulders, his arms still curled under his. "I'm not really great at measuring my strength yet."

"You don't have to be worried about that with me," Steve pointed out. "We're on pretty equal footing. I think I can handle you."

"Yeah, but I don't want to get used to fighting one way, then accidentally hurt someone."

Steve hummed thoughtfully. "Is that why you rely on the web shooters?"

It was Peter's turn to be surprised. That was exactly it. Holding back his hits took concentration, but it was better than the alternative. It only took one time of accidentally knocking a guy unconscious on patrol for Peter to totally flip out. He thought he'd killed the guy! He still had a slight concussion, but since the dude was trying to steal from that cool non-binary person who owned the convenience store by the school, he let himself be forgiven. From then on, though, he'd pretty much fought on the offensive if he could and used his webs to incapacitate when he got an opening.

Steve squeezed Peter, taking the silence as his answer. "You have to have more confidence in yourself. Part of being a good fighter is using your strengths as much as knowing your weaknesses."

Peter frowned. "But-when I'm fighting civilians my strength is my weakness."

"Not if you learn to control it," Steve argued.

"Isn't that what I'm doing?"

"No. You're holding back, but sometimes you're holding back too much. If you learn to gauge how much strength to use from opponent to opponent, you won't have to second guess everything you do. You're hesitating when you hit. That's why I always win."

Peter rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry. "Always, he says."

Steve chuckled warmly, giving Peter a soft sweet kiss, only barely pulling back as he spoke against his lips. "I'm serious. You could probably beat all of us, if you really tried. Do you have any plans for tomorrow morning?"

Peter shook his head.

"Then let's meet at the usual time. I'll even recruit Bucky to help us out."

Peter feigned sudden realization, face-palming. "Oh never mind. I forgot. I have things. Important things. The best of things. Can't be avoided."

Steve poked Peter in the side. "How are you ever going to prove you can pin me if you keep slackin', Queens?"

"You mean other than by doing just that less than two minutes ago? I was counting on your joints giving out or something, honestly, but I'm sure I'll manage."

Steve barked out a laugh, tilting his head back the way that Peter loved so much. Liked. Liked so much. "Keep dreaming, kid. Seriously though. I'd feel a lot better if we got you back into regular training with everything going on."

Peter sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Is it bad that I almost wish Hydra would just make a move already?"

"I'm glad they haven't. When they finally do, it'll only be because they're ready for it, and there's no telling how much damage they'll cause."

"As much as they can, I'm sure. Thieves and muggers, sometimes they are just on the wrong path, you know, but legit bad guys, they're are all the same."

"Like Death Eaters," Steve offered, absentmindedly running calloused fingers over the pad of Peter's hand. "Except they use science instead of magic."

Peter snorted, flexing his fingers to fight off the ticklish feeling.

"What was that noise about?" Steve asked. "I can't make film references?"

"No, it's awesome. I just can't wait until you are a full blown nerd."

"What does that come with? A medal? A spot in the hall of fame?"

"As if you don't already have one," Peter scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. "You're literally the world's first Avenger."

"Touché."

They sat in silence a moment, just enjoying the feel of one another.

"Did I tell you I went to your exhibit? It was the Howling Commando one they had at the Museum of Science and History a few years ago, before all the Spiderman stuff. It was pretty awesome."

"Really? Did you learn anything?"

Peter shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Nothing I didn't already know. You know how I am. When I like something, I research everything I can."

Steve tussled his hair, smirking. "I forget. You were a 'big fan.' Not the best thing to announce before a fight, just for future reference."

"That's what Tony said," Peter muttered, flattening his hair back down.

"I liked your hair like that," Steve said, with a faux pout.

"Oh really?" Peter laughed. "Messy hair is the new style?"

"Only when I'm the one messing it up," Steve said, with a brilliant 1000 Watt smile. Steve pushed himself up with one hand, bracing Peter with the other until they were both sitting up, Peter still straddling him, then knotted his fingers in the back of his hair, stroking the sensitive spot at the base of his neck softly. "Or you. You mess it up like that when you're working in the lab. It always drives me crazy."

Peter tried not to gasp at the touch, or even worse groan. Steve's words, low and husky, seemed to wrap around him, lighting his whole body aflame. His breath came quickly, and he half expected for Steve to back away or change his mind, almost ready for him to decide that he was wrong and Peter wasn't what he wanted, but his warm smile and welcoming touch was unwavering.

Steve was captivated as Peter's tongue darted out wetting his bottom lip, leaving it shiny and pink.

"Remind me to do that more often," Peter laughed awkwardly.

Steve's hands moved from his hair and drug down Peter's shoulders, then his spine, linking just above the small of his back. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

Peter knew he should do something, say something, but apparently he was having a lapse in cognitive function, because he couldn't make his mouth form words. He didn't know what to say to this sudden onslaught of reassurance in the face of his doubt, so he answered the only way he knew he couldn't mess up, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck and dragging him forward into a kiss.

Peter's skin was so soft, his lips hot and wet in the most pleasant way. Peter let out a faint noise of surprise when Steve kissed him back, but that seemed to be all the assurance Peter needed. His hands were suddenly everywhere, running up his arms, tangling in his hair to pull him closer, cupping his face. Peter's enthusiasm was as contagious as it was intoxicating, and Steve met it eagerly.

Their kisses turned fervent and need driven, tongues rolling together, and Peter let out a shivery moan that made Steve want to haul him to his bedroom. Peter's apparently had the same thought, his hips pushed down into Steve's, their groins lining up perfectly.

"Fuck," Steve groaned.

Peter grinned into the kiss. "Language."

Steve rolled his hips upward in retaliation, and Peter's eyes fluttered closed, his head tilting back to expose the heat weaving up his neck. Steve kissed at the redness, tracing a path along his jaw with soft nips and licks and kisses back to his swollen lips, dipping his tongue inside then taking his lower lip between his teeth.

Peter moaned into Steve's mouth, his hang clenching tightly to the lose hairs at the base of his neck, and Steve felt the unmistakable pang of arousal shoot straight down his spine. Their foreheads pressed together, their hot and heavy panting mingling together.

"You like that, Queens?" Steve's hips started working as if they had a mind of their own, frotting slow and steady against Peter, chasing the sweet sound of his voice.

Peter nodded, shakily. Steve's cock continued to swell under his thin basketball shorts, and just the thought of it brought Peter embarrassingly close to the edge.

"Oh god," he moaned, his eyes clamping shut and mouth falling slack. A low rumble emanated from Steve's chest and up his throat, almost a growl.

"You're a mess, you know that," Steve panted, against his lips. "You know just how to make me break every time."

"Steve, I-" Peter started.

Steve gripped Peter's hips and lined them up just right, their bodies moving together deliciously until Peter gripped Steve's shoulders, and his stomach muscles tensed, warmth spreading through his sleep pants with a long moan. The sight of Peter coming undone and slight wetness was enough to put Steve's at the edge, and after a few hard, deep rolls of his hips he found his own release, biting softly into Peter's shoulder to stifle his groan.

Peter kissed Steve's neck. "That was...oh my god."

Steve chuckled, still panting. "Tell me about it."

"So is it super weird that I'm hungry now?"

Steve rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Sex and a sandwich. You're a stereotype."

Peter scoffed, blushing at the blunt wording. "So if I make food you won't eat it?"

"I never said that," Steve grinned widely. "But maybe we should clean up first."

Peter looked down between them and then back at Steve, who was just smirking at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," Peter drew out the word. "That's probably a good idea."

Steve's response was cut off when his phone vibrated under Peter's leg. Peter climbed off, not realizing his legs were asleep until he almost collapsed on the floor. Steve burst into a fit of laughter, helping Peter to the spot beside him before retrieving it from his pocket. He unlocked it, eyes darting across the screen. It was Tony. Steve sighed.

"Duty calls?" Peter guessed.

"Yeah, sorry. Tony is needing some help moving some stuff."

"Avenger stuff?" Steve nodded. "Do you guys need some help?"

"No. I, uh. I think we can get it. He said it'll probably take a bit to install the equipment, but maybe we can do something later tonight."

It must be the cloaking device, Peter thought. If he was almost finished, it made sense that Tony would already be done. Peter should probably work on that some time today. He didn't like leaving Goggles decommissioned for so long, but it couldn't be helped, since he had to connect his power source directly to the device. The testing should be done by now, so all he would need to do is make sure that the device was functioning well on its own then he should be able to connect it to Goggles' processor and-

"You mentioned a movie, right? We could do that tonight if you wanted."

Peter nodded, attention snapping back. "Yeah. We could probably watch one of them tonight. They're pretty long."

Steve stood up, tucking his laptop under his arm then pressing a soft kiss to Peter's lips. "Alright, then. Good luck with," Steve gestured to all of Peter. "That. I'll see you tonight."

"Weirdo," Peter said, but it was entirely fond.

"Learned from the best."

****

The next week or so was like that. In the morning, Peter would join Steve and Bucky for new and improved Peter training, then they would spend some time together working on homework and whatever Steve had to do that day until they both either finished or got bored enough to stop. Then they would either cuddle and watch a movie together, or grab one of the guys, usually Sam, Bucky Thor, or any combination of the three, to go hang out in communal room. It was kind of awkward at first for Peter, since he wasn't as close to any of them as he was everyone else, but it was fun enough, and the others all had other things they needed to work on.

After that, they would have lunch, then they usually broke off for a few hours to do their own things.

It was during that time that Peter managed to get Goggles up and moving, with only a few minor programming issues and bugs he would have to iron out, but all in all he was pleased with his work. He spent many hours trying to improve specifications for the concealment device, like teaching Goggles when to automatically activate it on his own and designating code words for Peter to voice control it.

Other days Peter worked on his Hydra board, but it always left Peter feeling uneasy. Lying to everyone before had sucked but now? It was awful. Especially when Steve would meet up with him again and look at him with that look, the one that told him how happy he was there and how much Steve missed him in their short time apart, like he was the greatest thing since the invention of the internal combustion engine. Not that Peter was making a lot of progress.

Peter made a few changes to his algorithm for the serum since the first one didn't seem to work, but this time he put a bit more effort into it, spending most of the Wednesday night on it, since Steve wanted to spend the night with Bucky and Sam after Bucky's therapy stuff.

As much as he enjoyed spending time with Steve and his friends, it was a welcomed change of pace when Tony and Natasha asked Peter if he wanted to spend the day in the lab with them, Bruce and Loki. He figured he wouldn't get to help them what they were doing, but between all of the ideas he had in his notebook, and the tests he wanted to run for the the variant web fluid formulas he developed, he figured he would stay busy enough.

When Peter made it down, Tony was already waiting for him.

"Hey kid," he greeted, shoving a hand in his pocket. "What's the plan for today? Jumping dimensions?Solving Time Travel?"

"Not quite," Peter said. "Just some normal stuff."

"You? Normal? Now that would be a feat."

"You're one to talk," Peter snarked back.

Tony tilted his head as if to say, "you right, you right." Or at least that's how Peter read it.

"Well, if you aren't too busy, I was going to see if you could help me with something."

Peter mock gasped. "Ulterior motives? I knew it."

"No," Tony argued, defensively. "I wanted to spend some time with you. It's just, you know. if you weren't doing anything, then I would be happy to put you to work. But if you have some super important life-altering science fair project to throw together then feel free, Underoos. My amazing million dollar tech and unparalleled mentoring skills will happily take the back burner."

Peter was listening to the rant, patiently waiting for his spiel to end before huffing in amusement. "I was definitely just kidding. You know I'm always wanting to help out. What do you got?"

"Okay then. Follow me."

Tony took Peter over to a table covered in a long set of blueprints. They were intricate and detailed, small descriptions beside each piece with corresponding equations at the bottom.

Peter leaned closer, reading some of the materials listed, then looked up at Tony. "What are these?"

"These," Tony started, dramatically. "are some new designs to update your suit."

Peter's eyes widened and he looked at the design again. In one of the models, there were four spindle-like appendages protruding from the back of the suit, all appearing to be made of carbon fiber and a few different metal alloys, allowing for complex variations of movement and durability. In the other models, though, they were gone, but there was no pack or casing, or anything really, to show where they would be stored.

"How is that going to work? Won't it make the suit bulky?"

"Nope. Not if you're using nanobots."

Peter's jaw dropped. "Wait. You're-you're giving me a nanobot suit?"

"Not if you can't tell me if it'll work," Tony said, mischievously. "That was the first draft. There are at minimum three mistakes, and those are just the ones I've caught. Your job is to find those, and whatever else won't work."

"And I'm doing this instead of just starting where you are because..?"

"Come on. This is a learning opportunity. You don't really want me to just give you everything, do you?"

Peter blinked at him and Tony rolled his eyes.

"If you want it, you gotta work for it. Plus, it'll give you something to do while we're gone. Don't worry. I'm sure you'll do great." Tony grinned brightly, almost too brightly, then walked over to where Natasha was watching them with a smirk.

"Thanks a lot," Peter mumbled.

Three hours passed, and Peter was deep into his work. He had a stack of papers beside him full of his own notes where he was checking equations, then checking those against theory, researching thermodynamics and its effects on the different metals melting points, checking weight and its distribution. At first he thought it would be tedious, but he found himself delving even deeper than was needed, enthralled by all the things that had to come together just right to make everything work.

Peter was just starting on the second model, when a cup was sat down beside him.

"Hello, mischief," Loki greeted with a wry smile. "You've been busy."

Peter jumped, feeling strangely like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar despite not having done anything wrong. Today anyway. He wondered how the hell Loki was able to just show up like that, too quiet even for his superhearing, especially dressed the way he was. He had obviously gotten the Natasha Treatment™️, wearing another dark yet classic midguardian ensemble, complete with the same "grandpa shoes" Bruce wore. Now that he thought about it, he'd only seen Loki's iconic outfit once since he'd arrived.

"Yeah. I haven't really had the chance to work on anything in the lab in a while."

Loki hummed, noncommittally, his voice turning slightly snide. "I imagine hiding away in your room makes playing rogue Avenger quite difficult."

Peter hurriedly looked over his shoulder to where the others were talking quietly. They all seemed pretty invested in what they were talking about, but he still licked his lips nervously.

"Making any progress with those 'things'?"

Peter let out a long breath. He and Loki hadn't talked in private at all since his little intervention, but they had actually spent quite a bit of time together. It was obvious that Loki was more comfortable around him than the Avengers, always opting to sit next to him or Thor if Bruce wasn't available and commenting mostly in response to things Peter said when they were all together, if he spoke at all.

Peter wondered why exactly that was, since everyone seemed pretty welcoming, but the only answer he could come up with was that Peter didn't share the same history of fighting him as the Avengers. It didn't seem like something that would bother Loki, though, so who knew?

Peter had, at some point, begun to enjoy his company, as weird as that was. They were total opposites. Loki was so quiet and reserved, but when he did speak, it was always something witty or meaningful. It was just so different to Peter's endless babbling. Loki didn't mind it though, always listening intently and only ever interrupting to add his own ideas.

"I mean, kind of," Peter answered, quietly.

Loki tsked. "Such vaguery. And I thought we were becoming close."

"We are," Peter said . "It's just-everyone is in there."

"From what I have seen, your stealth skills leave much to be desired. Mine, however, do not. Tell me, do you truly believe I would instigate this conversation if we could be over heard?"

Loki waited expectantly, a perfectly groomed eyebrow arched almost to his hairline.

Peter sighed. "No. They have better hearing than you think, though."

Loki grinned. "It is fortunate, then, that if they listen they will hear nothing but discussions of the weather."

"Really?

Loki gave a single, graceful nod.

"Oh." Peter looked out at the living room. "Well, I-I'm trying to help Dr. Banner with the whole serum thing. It was going okay, but now, not so much. I'm hitting a few snags, but there's nothing I can do about it. Not unless I want to admit to everyone what I'm doing."

"Not advisable."

Peter slumped his shoulders. He'd thought so, but he kind of hoped Loki would disagree. "I guess I'll just move on to something else, then."

"I didn't say that."

"But you just said-"

"What I said is that you shouldn't expose yourself just yet, not that you should abandon your work."

Peter stared at him blankly and Loki's lips quirked into a half-smile. He sat in the chair in front of him, speaking as he flipped through Peter's idea book.

"There was a story my mother told Thor and I as children. I suppose here, midguardians would call it a fable, though we make no distinction between stories on Asgard. Regardless, I have found it useful on many occasions where I found myself at a loss. It goes as such:

"A warrior, after a long and perilous journey to find his kidnapped child, is taken by an enemy of which he'd never seen, and cast into a room with many doors, and a million keys. Unbeknownst to the warrior, this new enemy was infamous across this foreign land for setting unbeatable traps, ones that no man had ever been able to escape. It became apparent very soon though, even without such knowledge, that his strange foe had powers that exceeded his own. No amount of magic or dexterity could unlock the doors, try as he might, so after a bit of time, the warrior did what any man would. He began trying to unlock the doors, using one key on them all, then setting it aside in a group of its own, not to be mistaken with those untried.

"The days passed, and the pile of unused keys dwindled while the other grew past half height, with no success. The only door that had opened was not a door at all, opening only to expose the brick beneath it. The warrior was beginning to lose faith and energy, until one morning, many moons later, he exploded in a fit of rage, throwing the keys and destroying all the progress he'd made. He cursed the his captor, the world, and, above all, himself for not being able to save his son, punching the bricks until his knuckles bled.

"It was then that a brick shifted. That small movement, that tiny shift of position, was momentous. He continued his destruction, pummeling the wall until nothing but blood and rubble and torn skin remained, awarding him with beginning of sunlight on the horizon that he so craved."

Peter listened reverently until the very end, then averted his gaze in thought. After a moment, he looked up, hope in his eyes. "Did he ever find his son?"

"Irrelevant." Loki smirked at the expression on Peter's face. "My apologies. Was my point not clear?"

"No, I mean I understand it, I just thought..." Peter started. Loki waited. "Never mind. It uhm. It was about perseverance during hard times. Don't give up until you've tried everything, right?"

"That is one way to see it," Loki agreed. "More succinctly, I'd say, is when you hit a brick wall-break it."

Loki gave him a light flick on the forehead before bowing his head, and walking back to where Bruce and the others were now looking through files. Peter absorbed that as he picked up his pencil, twirling it between his fingers.

When you come to a brick wall, break it.

Peter huffed. It actually sounded more like something Thor or maybe Bucky would say than Loki, but it made a lot of sense.

The only problem was that Peter's "brick wall" included stealing-or as he preferred calling it, "borrowing without permission"-Dr. Banner's research files. There were a lot of problems to tackle there. Because Bruce worked on his own independent network, a necessity born from his usually limited time spent in the Tower, he would probably have to manually access his computers. From there, he could hack into the database remotely, but that would be almost as hard, if not harder than, the first challenge.

Peter bit his lip. He knew that if he had Ned, this whole situation would be far less of an issue, but since Ned nor Michelle had yet to message him, he didn't see how he could do it without tripping over something and getting caught. He was good, but he wasn't Ned good.

"паучок," Natasha called out. "You at a good stopping point?"

Peter looked down at his papers. Probably not, but he wouldn't think so until he was done, and who knew how long that would take?

"Sure. Why?"

"Call your boyfriend and tell him to gather the troops for our send-off dinner."

Peter's face burned at the word boyfriend, but he nodded anyway.

Dinner was actually more like a feast, even more so than usual. Nobody expected Tony, Natasha, Rhodey and Pepper to be gone more than two days or so, but any occasion was occasion enough for Natasha and Tony to make it a "special occasion."

Peter was the last to arrive, despite being with Tony's group, because he didn't want to lose his place where he was working. He could almost understand all the stories about Tony's 48 hour work benders now. Once you started, it was just too hard to stop until you were done.

Peter stepped into the living room, a huge plate in hand, surprised at the addition of a new, ginormous three sided sectional.

"Hey, guys. What'd I miss?"

"Just talking about our plans for the next for days," Steve said as he scooted over to make room for Peter.

"Yeah, because who in their right mind wants free time, right?" Tony snarked.

"Do you even know what that is?" Natasha asked. "I don't think I've ever seen you out of the lab for more than a few hours at a time."

"Lab stuff is different," Tony said, waving his hand.

"When did you say Clint is supposed to be back?" Sam asked Natasha from his spot between Thor and Bucky.

"Either tonight or early tomorrow morning. He just said he would be here before we left for DC," she answered. "Lila says hi, by the way."

Peter perked. "Oh! Awesome. Tell her I said hi, too."

"I have been anticipating his arrival back," Thor said, amused. "He and mjölnir have much to discuss after leaving me to the wolves."

Tony laughed heartily. "How much do I have to pay to see this discussion? Name your price, Point Break. Sam will make you cookies."

Sam scrunched up his face at Tony's off key sing-song voice.

"All I require is for you to hold your tongue until I have done what I need to do. Barton can be quite sneaky, and I don't want to have to try to find him. There are far too many places to hide."

Steve put his plate on the table, unscrewing the cap of his water. "Wait. Didn't Natasha just lecture you?"

"That is true, but he left me to bear the brunt of the blade!" Thor said, offended, shaking the remnants of his sandwich in the air.

"To be fair, Stevie, Natasha is scary," Bucky said. Natasha didn't reply, just taking a sip from her glass.

"Exactly. We are brother's in arms! We should have fallen together. Not that I didn't enjoy our time, young Spider. You were very entertaining."

"Thanks, buddy."

"Entertaining is one word for it," Steve said, teasingly. "I just knew you were going to break your arm or something."

"Don't you know that doesn't matter?" Tony said, mockingly. "Kid's got super healing remember? He'd be in tippity top shape before breakfast."

Peter rolled his eyes, taking the teasing in stride. It wasn't the first time they'd picked on him about it, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"You really need to get a sample of that HoneyMeade, Bruce," Tony said. "Maybe you can figure out a way to copy its effects. If it can effect Peter, it should work on the Olsen twins, right?"

Bruce blanched, but nobody seemed to notice except Loki. He knew the reason behind his sudden silence though, so he didn't mention it.

"Yeah, no offense but that stuff you make us tastes like rubbing alcohol. Does the trick though," Bucky admitted.

The elevator opened and Peter craned his neck around. Steve gave him a questioning look, not having heard it, then Happy appeared, a suitcase in hand.

"Hey guys. What's going on in here?" He asked, shoving his phone in his pocket.

"Just dinner. Take a seat. Kick your feet up and eat with us," Tony said.

"Nah, I just stopped by to drop some stuff off and wanted to step in and say hi. I've got some other errands to run before tomorrow."

"Oh okay. Well, take what you want from the kitchen with you then."

"Thanks, Boss. I will."

Happy turned around and Peter watched him leave, his heart thumping.

"Hey, I'll be right back, okay?" Peter whispered to Steve.

"Everything okay?"

"No, yeah. I just wanted to ask Happy something. You just stay and eat. It'll only take a second."

"Okay," Steve agreed easily.

Peter walked hurriedly over to the kitchen, where Happy was closing up his Tupperware box.

"Hey! Mr. Happy. Sir. I was just wondering, if it's okay with Tony, would you mind giving me a ride to my friend's house? I've been wanting to see him, but everyone's been pretty busy, so I haven't gotten the chance."

"This your friend Ted? I thought he was grounded," Happy frowned.

"Ned. But yeah. He is, but it's been over a week. I don't think Ned's ever been grounded that long. Or MJ, now that I think about it."

"What are you going to do? Beg the mom to let him off?"

Peter's face fell. I mean, yeah, that kind of was the plan, Peter thought. It worked before.

"Look. You probably shouldn't bother them, kid. What if you just get him into even more trouble?"

Peter didn't think that would happen. Ned's mom was one of the nicest ladies he knew. She was probably mad that it was the police that Ned was arguing with, but maybe if Peter showed up and told her that everything was fine and it was a big mistake anyway, she would understand why he didn't want to talk to them. But instead of arguing, he nodded, unable to hide his disappointment. "Yeah. You're right. Thanks, anyway."

Happy clapped a hand on his shoulder, then started filling his plate and Peter took it as a dismissal.

Everyone was still talking happily, though they must've changed topics several times since he'd gone or taken an extreme tangent, because they were nowhere near where he'd left off.

"-should've seen the thing Steve gave Bucky," Sam said, mimicking the size with his hands. "It was massive. I'm like, 'you're seriously giving that guy a gun?'"

"Its got a lot of power too. It's specially built so if anyone without that metal arm of his gets it, they're screwed," Tony explained.

Bucky's mouth twisted down, impressed, leaning back against the couch. "Steve failed to mention that feature. That's even better."

"And of course Tony was in on it," Sam said, dropping his arms dramatically.

"You get wings, I get guns. Only fair."

"Only fair," Natasha agreed with a grin.

Sam huffed, crossing his arms. "It's your funerals, man."

Peter managed to fall back into beat with the others, and by the time dinner was over, he felt better about his talk with Happy. He would give it a few more days, but that was it. If Happy wouldn't take him, he was sure Steve, Tony or Natasha would.

*****

Tony could probably list off all the people he genuinely liked on one hand. Okay, two hands. Now that Steve and the others were hanging around again, he'd need both, but the point is, he didn't like a lot of people. Even less people actually liked him in return. Everyone he met expected him to either be this callous, cold-hearted asshole, their personal sugar daddy, or the drugged out alcoholic from his younger years, and even when he proved time and time again that their image of him was wrong, it only seemed to make them hate him more, like their happiness relied solely on the entertainment they could yield from his drama.

Tony didn't let it bother him. Much. He knew from a young age what fame did to people and everyone around them, even if he didn't learn how to manage it properly until his 30s. He and Pepper were a great team in that aspect. He knew how to plaster on a smile for the cameras, how to schmooze a room full of reporters or a company head, and Pepper could convince the ones he couldn't with meetings, charts and numbers, the things Tony couldn't care less about. No matter how much he hated putting on a mask and putting on a show, Tony had to admit he was great at it. The exception being with Thaddeus Ross.

Tony, Natasha, Rhodey and Pepper sat in a massive conference room in DC, a hologram in the center of their table depicting the man in question as he stood on the center podium. The hologram allowed them to clearly see anyone in the room, and any information that seemed important below them.  
As people spoke, their hologram would pop up, allowing the four of them to have a better sense of who they were dealing with.

As much as Tony didn't like to admit it, Pepper was right in her hesitance to have faith in the amendment council. These people knew each other. They had to meet dozens of times a year, and most of them had interests that were connected to many other's in the room. They had ties, connections, relationships and, in the darker cases, information that could push and sway decisions, especially if it was in their favor. Even if they didn't know each other on a personal level, they at least knew of each other, and that put the Avenger's at a significant disadvantage.

Tony's first meeting hadn't gone well. He was underprepared for all of the backlash and arguments they provided, but Tony was a fast learner and didn't allow that catastrophe to happen a second time. He needed a way to keep tabs on possible motivations and backgrounds so he could anticipate their moves like chess pieces. Since creating the voice-activated hologram, things had gone much smoother. People tend not to throw in bogus ideas to inflate their own agenda if you call them out on it.

As the last people took their seats, Thaddeus stood up, making a pompous show of adjusting his expensive cuff links of his military uniform. "Hello everyone. Thank you for coming. I'm sorry to have wasted your time earlier this month, but now that we are all here, we can begin."

Tony leaned back in his chair lackadaisically, intertwining his hands and resting them on his stomach, looking unperturbed by the obvious jab at his team. "Want to tell us why we're reconvening? Again? I have to say, I'm really hoping it's not just so you could see me, because I'll admit the sentiment isn't shared."

Pepper only barely managed to keep from sighing loudly, instead shutting her eyes and shaking her incredulously at Tony's need to pick on the man who already hated them in front of several hundred people.

Thaddeus wore a smile, but Tony could see the sharpness in his time-worn eyes. From what Natasha could tell, that only seemed to please Tony more.

"Rest assured, I'm as put off by your presence as you are mine, Stark. I wouldn't advise it unless it were absolutely necessary."

Tony snorted, then leaned over to faux whisper to Natasha. "Doubt that."

Natasha nudged his foot under the table, smirking, and her heart fluttered with the boyish wink he tossed back.

"Why are we here, Ross?" She asked.

The air in the room shifted with her question, no doubt from unease. It wasn't that people didn't know how powerful Tony was, but they were used to his presence. Natasha, on the other hand, was a mere legend amongst the Avengers, much like Thor and the unnamed Hawkeye. They avoided the limelight, and most people didn't even know what they looked like. The fact that she'd shown up today when she refused so many times before had everyone itching in their seats.

"As you already know, The Accords Council has been working tirelessly with The Avenger's legal team to work towards making the Accords a working document that benefits both parties. As of the last meeting, we have incorporated three new amendments to the existing 16. However. Now that we have settled the harder parts of the Accords, the council would like to revisit the Hydra Immunity Proposition," Thaddeus said to the room.

Tony's nose wrinkled in distaste, unsure if it was from the words Thaddeus said or from having to look at him for too long. Now, this guy was definitely an ass. There was no doubt about that, but even so, Tony didn't expect Thaddeus to try to pull this stunt so soon. In retrospect though, he wasn't sure why he didn't.

Thaddeus has been giving Tony hell at every turn, trying as hard as possible to discredit not only Tony, but the other Avengers as well. Steve was targeted the most, which was understandable considering his outright opposition to the Accords, but Tony never let him get away with too much. What were they doing there trying to fix everything if they were going to stay stuck in the past regardless?

"No," Tony said easily, his voice ringing with confidence. "It isn't a proposition. If you recall, it was an agreement. One of the first ones we bargained for, actually."

"Yes, but in the beginning, you were negotiating to placate a certain super soldier dead set on not conforming. Ensuring him that you could go after Hydra without having to worry about meeting with the Council was a major point of contention for us, but we let it slide because we took it as a token of trust between us. Things have changed, though. We've come to more than enough agreements that Steve Rogers should be comfortable in our assessments," Thaddeus explained.

Natasha raised a questioning brow at Tony, not sure whether or not her speaking up was in their best interest, but he gave her an encouraging nod. Natasha was brilliant and convincing in her own right. He trusted her implicitly.

Natasha leaned forward in her seat, and steeled her expression.

"The Council is aware that the reason for that clause is because Hydra is one of the most prolific and invasive terrorist organizations in the world, is it not? Opening ourselves up to any outside influence risks the chances of Hydra intercepting our plans and allowing them use anything they find to harm the general public. It has already been proven that even the top tiers of government are not immune to Hydra influence. On the contrary, it seems Hydra flourishes within positions of power. Is it possible your intentions lie somewhere other than the safety of the people?" Natasha asked.

The tension amped up again, the accusation in her tone making more than a few people visibly uncomfortable.

A female woman by the name of Grace McAdams answered and her image grew on the table. She was probably in her mid-50's and wore a black dress suit, her greying hair tied into a tight bun on top of her head. Several other names color-coded to signify they were also part of the Council lit up under her visage, along with a small summary of her participation in several government projects.

"It has come to our attention that there have been several missions reported with little to no information included," McAdams said, her voice ringing with disapproval. "Based on our agreements, the only missions that do not require any detailed reports were missions pertaining to Hydra. Our question is, how can we be sure you were on a Hydra mission at all? If you are gathering information on Hydra, should we not have access to what you learn to better understand their threat levels?"

Rhodey quirked his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry. Are you asking why we aren't sharing information gathered from a major terroristic organization, which would be a major matter of National Security, to a small group of 200+ people?"

"Three hundred twelve," Pepper whispered beside him.

"Ah. Right. Three hundred and twelve," Rhodey amended with a quirk of his lips. "Thank you."

"As McAdams said, the main issue isn't what you've learned so much as how do we know that the missions you are going on are truly related to Hydra. The Avengers could be going behind our backs and doing whatever they want like they always do under the guise of working under the Hydra Immunity Agreement," a man named Luke Ford explained. "Which, if you recall, would be a violation of the Accords."

"I'm not understanding," Natasha said, eyebrow raised. "You are willing to risk sensitive information being leaked to the public on the off chance the Avengers are using their supposed freedom to go off on other missions behind your back? I can assure you, as inconvenient as requesting permissions from the Council is, I think half of our team being shoved in the RAFT for a week has taken the joy out of joyrides."

"Unfortunately, your assurances are not enough," Thaddeus said, crossly. "If we are not able to see specific information on what you've learned, at the very least we need to see reports for where you've gone and the basics of the mission."

There were murmurs of assent throughout the room, but to the Avenger Team's surprise, a woman, in elaborate skirts and makeup spoke before they could. The name Amelia Rashan flashed beneath her. "How is that any different than requiring specific information? If Hydra is as invasive as The Avenger's claim, any information that we receive, including where they've been or what they are doing could be used to their benefit. This council is here to protect not only the people, but The Avengers as well. That is a fact that I think many here have forgotten."

"What exactly do you think the Avenger's need protecting from?" McAdams asked, her hands crossed on the table. There was a smugness in her tone, the slightest tilt of her head that made it sound as if she were indulging a child instead of a grown woman.

Rashan wasn't fazed.

"As I'm sure you're aware, at every major catastrophe the Avengers has been a part of, there has been backlash. There will always be people that critique the actions of those in the spotlight, and we can't help that. The way we can help, is by showing the public that we have a system to keep them safe, and that the Avengers are only being implemented because the powers of the world agreed that it was the best course of action."

McAdams scoffed at the woman. "And making sure they aren't stepping outside of their boundaries harms them or the public how? If we can't guarantee they are staying within our agreements, then how can the public trust our judgement?"

The whole room erupted in quiet arguments, the room seemingly divided in their opinions. Rashan waited patiently for the room to die down before she spoke again. "There have been millions upon millions of people affected by the events of the last few years. But for the next minute I want everyone, every single one of you to take a minute to think about what would have happened if the Avenger's hadn't been there."

She paused expectantly. "Not a pretty picture to paint, is it? I'm not saying everything is perfect. Mistakes have been made, that's obvious."

Tony cringed beside Natasha, and she put a comforting hand on his leg.

"The Accords are a means of preventing those same mistakes, but when we agree to something, we need to stick with our decisions. How can they trust us with information pertaining to the number one threat to the world as a whole when they can't trust us to do right by them?"

"That is a sweet sentiment, Mrs. Rashan, but that just isn't reality," Ford said, condescension piercing the air. Natasha's hands bunched into fists. Punching that guy was beginning to feel less like a nice thought and more like an inevitability. "I would rather ruffle the feathers of a few superheroes than risk the Council being humiliated when the world finds out that they are lying to placate us."

"I'm hate to interrupt, but I'm going to have to stop you there in the interest of time," Pepper finally stepped in. She looked over the room, adopting her "I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed face."

Tony gave her and Rhodey a questioning look but Natasha just smiled, crossing her arms. Good on her. If she hadn't stopped them, Natasha would have.

"I'm aware of how these things often go. You thought that when we walked in here months ago, you could give us a little wiggle room until we felt comfortable, then strong arm us into giving up more and more of the freedoms this council chose to willingly give us, until we were practically back under your thumb.

"As Rashan so succinctly pointed out, this council is supposed to ensure that the Avengers are only dispensed when necessary and as we agreed, the Avengers have been on various Council-requested missions. You want to paint the Avengers as self-serving vigilantes, despite all of their willingness to give their lives to protect the world and work with this council to keep themselves in check. Some of you would buy into their negative narrative, and some of you would see through it as a manipulative and domineering attempt to take control over people you see as weapons.

"Fortunately for us, we anticipated this behavior and had a clause implemented in the original agreement in preparation for this very moment. If you will please pull out Amendment Two, Section 12 of the Avenger Initiative World Safety Agreements..."

The next half hour passed rather quickly, with Pepper shredding through their arguments with legal jargon the others didn't even try to keep up with. From what they understood, one carefully worded line from their team of lawyers assured that none of the 5 initial amendments would be able to be amended further unless there was hard evidence that proved that they were working outside of that specific amendments permissions.

"This is why I let Pepper handle these guys," Tony said quietly, watching as the room seemed to deflate with every word she said. "Freakin' cut throat."

"She would make an amazing agent," Natasha said in agreement. "I'm glad she's on our side."

"You and me both, Spidermom," Rhodey whispered.

*****

Bucky sat on Steve's couch, slouched forward, elbows resting on his knees. It was early-way too early in his opinion-but Steve told him and Peter that today's work out was going to be a little different, so 7 AM it was.

There was something playing on the TV, probably one of those shows Peter was always going on about, and Bucky unwillingly got sucked into it waiting on Steve to go through his morning routine. There was a little green chihuahua looking baby thing and a man with badass armor obviously in need of some parenting classes along with his assassin training, but the fight scenes were epic and unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Bucky reluctantly tore his eyes away from the TV at the end of the episode to unlock his phone, looking at the time. 6: 47. If Steve didn't get a move on, Peter was going to beat them to the gym.

Bucky frowned at the unconscious thought. He liked Peter, especially compared to how he felt a month ago, and even enjoyed spending time with him most of the time. but it was strange having someone new in his inner circle. Steve made time for just them some nights, though, so he couldn't complain.

The night of the party he'd been pretty pessimistic about the future. Leaving Steve, telling him what he did... he wasn't sure how he felt about it all. A big part of him was almost relieved. He didn't really understand it, but that's what it was. Relief. It was like this whole time, the better part of his life, he'd been standing on the edge of this cliff, and he'd finally stepped away.

It was the right thing to do. Yet.

Another part, one that Bucky was ashamed existed, felt broken. Like in stepping away from the cliff, he lost sight of the ocean and all the comfort that came with it.

What was he supposed to do about it, though?

Steve was an adult. A sometimes self-destructive dumbass, clearly, but a good guy. He would know better than anyone if this kid was the real deal or not. Even if he wasn't, if he believed anyone could change someone for the better it was him. Since that didn't seem to be what was really bothering him, that only left one other possibility.

Natasha was right. Maybe Bucky had doubted his true feelings for Steve before, maybe even a few times, but he knew now with certainty that the love he felt wasn't the same love Steve felt for him. It would be easier if it was. He and Steve could have been happy. They knew everything about each other, they accepted each other, flaws and all, and they just fit. So why didn't he want Steve that way?

It wasn't like he hadn't thought about men before, those quiet nights around the fire with his brothers in arms, miles away from any town, or any woman to help stave off the cold. In his opinion, it would be strange not to, even if he would never say so aloud. It was just natural to want to be close to someone, especially if they were attractive. Yet, even when his mind had drifted, not once did his thoughts ever drift to Steve.

Knowing without a doubt that he could never see Steve that way didn't necessarily take away the pain of giving him up. It was selfish, yeah, but he couldn't help but wonder, with Peter in the picture, where would that leave him?

The answer was exactly where he'd always been.

They worked out together, ate at least one meal together every day, if not more. They hung out and just watched TV or talked. It was great. Even if it was different.

"Are you watching like the Mandalorian?" Steve asked from the hallway. He was leaning against the wall with one outstretched hand, pulling on his shoe with the other.

"It was already on."

Steve groaned. "I must have forgotten to pause it when I had to turn off the coffee maker. Now I lost my place."

"You about ready?"

"Yeah, let's just grab our breakfast front he fridge first then we can head down."

"No complaints here."

A few minutes later, Peter was already changed into his dark work out clothes, sitting perched on the side of the wall when they stepped inside. His eyes snapped up at the sound of the door closing, and Steve tossed him an extra sandwich, to which he caught with ease.

"Peanut butter?" He guessed.

"And strawberry jelly."

"Hell yes," Peter muttered, opening the seal. "Thanks."

"We brought some extra water too," Bucky said as he put them all on the table. "Judging from Steve's excitement, we will probably need it."

"Great. Thanks," Peter said, swallowing down the sandwich in no more than four bites. It was as scary as it was impressive. Peter smirked, holding up the wrap at Bucky. "High school will do that to you. You cram or you starve."

"Army did the same thing," Bucky said. "That's a scary thought."

"You say that like you haven't always eaten that way," Steve said.

Bucky shrugged one shoulder. "Definitely didn't help none."

"I guess that's true," he mused. "So if it's okay with you two, I was thinking about trying something different today."

Steve walked over to the panel that changed the levels, making some adjustments. "Peter has improved a lot, and even though Tony's done an amazing job simulating battle with the training room, there's one thing he didn't consider."

Peter tilted his head. He wasn't sure where this was going, but he could already feel his muscles beginning to sore.

"Hand to hand?" Bucky guessed.

Steve grinned maniacally. "Hand to hand."

The training room hummed to life, the bright lights alternating as the many different machinations began to move.

"Me and Bucky will run through it, then we will take turns with you. Our fighting styles are different, so you'll benefit from going against both of us. On top of trying to make it to the other side, you'll have to worry about someone blocking your path, knocking you off, or trying to fight you along the way."

"You sure you're up for it?" Bucky looked to Peter, expecting the kid to look harrowed at the very least, but if anything, the kid looked thrilled.

"This is going to be great!" He said, practically buzzing. "Let's do this."

Steve and Bucky were fearless. It was obvious that knowing each other for so long came as both an advantage and a disadvantage. Every step Steve took, Bucky mirrored it with speed and precision. It didn't take long for Bucky to make the first offensive move, jumping to Steve's alternating tiles and going in for a punch. Steve expected it, dodging it easily, but as he moved to the side, Bucky moved to kick his feet out from under him.

Steve was knocked off balance by the stunt, only barely missing the electric shock that came with landing on red, but he was undeterred. He swung at Bucky, almost knocking him from the tiles completely, but Bucky shifted his weight, grabbing his arm and pulling Steve with him.

They backed away from each other long enough to run up the slope, but Steve was just a hair faster, using the extra time to tuck into a rolling flip to Bucky's side, swiping his leg down to try to knock Bucky back. Bucky latched onto his leg, almost flinging him down the slope before Steve grabbed the edge and all but sat on Bucky's shoulders, legs trapped between his chest and the wall.

Bucky growled deep in his throat. "I'm not into piggy backs, Stevie."

Steve laughed breathily as he hoisted himself back up. "Could've fooled me."

Bucky was right behind him. The towers were next. That whole part was even crazier than the first, both of them fighting not only against the crumbling towers, but each other. They were both visibly sweating, and they only barely managed to make it through to the other side.

Both were able to land more than a few hits hard enough to make Peter wince in sympathy, but by the very end, they were both laughing, winded but grinning. They met halfway and clasped hands.

"Thanks for the giant bruise on my side. You're lucky I didn't knock you flat on your ass on those towers."

"Like you could've," Steve boasted.

Something in Peter felt unsettled at the pure, unadulterated fire between them. It was strange-powerful, even from a distance he could feel it. Love, Peter recognized.

There was a twinge of jealousy there, but mostly shame, for feeling it. Steve loved Bucky, that he knew from the start, but Steve would never have said he wanted Peter if he didn't mean it. He and Bucky were best friends. Peter would never want that to change. This feeling-it was just something he was going to have to work on. He forced a smile as they jumped down and made their way over.

"Super soldiers is right," Peter quipped. "That was insane."

"Well, buckle up, kid. You're next."

Going up against Peter was totally different than fighting Bucky. Instead of actively trying to attack Steve, Peter worked on defense, blocking, dodging and evading, even managing to make Steve slip up a few times. His speed was still the same, but his skill had grown immensely. Where his movements used to be jerky, as if moving spur of the moment, they were now fluid and calculated. Steve was impressed that Peter wasn't focused on trying to beat him, and was rather utilizing his strengths.

Steve figured after pushing him so much to control his strength, he would have jumped on the opportunity to try to use it, even if it wasn't the best choice. He already prepared a whole speech about not trying to face an opponent more skilled that you are unless absolutely necessary and everything. He wasn't even mad he didn't have to use it.

"Not bad, Queens," Steve praised airily as they made it to the final stage.

"Not too bad yourself. Those joints aching yet?"

"Not a chance."

Peter smirked. "Then why can't you keep up?"

Peter leapt into the fray, trying to remember everything Steve had taught him about this part of the course. _Use your Spidey-senses. Don't calculate, just move. If you can't dodge it, brace for the hit._ Even with Steve hot on his trail, Peter was killing it. He was on the last stretch, just three tiles away from the final platform, when he heard a distinct alarm from the far side of the room. With a million different things he needed to focus on, the half second that he froze was enough to throw everything off. The tile beneath him shifted, and Peter couched instinctively to catch himself. A rubber bullet pelted him in the thigh, burning like a hundred wasp stings, making him hiss in pain. He barely dodged a second unknown projectile when Steve was on top of him.

Peter jumped, landing clumsily on the next step, and flailed backward to miss one of the orbs. Not realizing Peter was struggling just to stay upright, Steve plowed into his side, knocking him from the tile completely. Peter's hand shot out, but no webbing came, and he struck the mat below gracelessly, landing on his shoulder.

"Shit," Steve cursed somewhere up above him. "Peter? Are you okay?"

"I'm good," Peter said between gritted teeth, hurriedly pulling himself up, trying to ignore the sharp lightening in his shoulder. Probably not broken, but still. It wasn't pleasant.

Steve landed in a crouch a few feet in front of him. Steve’s hands were instantly roaming over his body, checking for injuries. If Peter hadn’t been so embarrassed, he might have actually enjoyed the caring, protective gesture.

”I’m okay,” Peter assured him.”

Steve didn’t looke wholly convinced but gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I thought you were going to move or else I wouldn't have hit you so hard."

"I'm fine. Really," Peter insisted, forcing a laugh. He got distracted, something you can't do in the middle of a fight. It was his own fault.

"Hey, you good?" Bucky asked from behind them. "That looked like a rough fall."

"Yeah I'm fine. What was that noise?"

Steve frowned. "What noise?"

"That alarm," Peter said. "That's why I got distracted. I know that's a bad excuse but I just got thrown off, you know?"

"I didn't hear anything," Bucky said.

"Me either," Steve said. "Maybe it was one of our phones."

Peter's forehead creased. "No. I don't think so."

"Avengers Assemble in the lab," JARVIS spoke over the speakers.

They all exchanged glances.

"That solves that," Bucky muttered.

Everyone was already there when they arrived, all wearing grim expressions.

"What happened?" Steve asked.

Clint unmuted the TV and there was chaos. People running in the streets in a panic, the headline reading, "Gunmen Attack Science Convention."

"It's Hydra," Bruce answered. "We need to get there now. There's gas pouring out of there, and that can only mean it's the serum. We can't reach Tony. He's probably still in the meeting."

Steve tensed but his face remained cool. “Everyone but Bruce, Peter, Loki and Thor suit up. We're leaving from the Hangar in five."

"What? No. I'm going," Peter demanded. "You can't make me stay."

"I can and I am," Steve shot back. “We're not bringing you into this. There is too much at stake.”

”I can handle it. You said yourself I hold my own better now. Let me prove it,” Peter said.

“Peter. We don’t have time to argue about this.”

"Then don't," Clint said, gesturing at the other four listed. "They can handle it here if they attack, but you know he's safest with us."

"Barton is right," Loki said, surprising everyone, including Peter. "The last thing they will expect is for you to bring the child. If they attack here, there is no guarantee we will be able to take them down without bringing the Tower down with us."

Steve looked like he wanted to continue fighting, glaring at Loki for a long minute, then let out a sharp breath, turning to the others.

"Fine. We're leaving in four. Get moving."

******

"That could've gone worse," Tony chirped, twirling his keys between his fingers.

"It could've gone better," Pepper said, eyes narrowed.

"Do the two really have to be mutually exclusive?" Rhodey tried, forcing a smile as he looked between the two. Pepper raised an eyebrow, and Tony crossed his arms. "Or not. I'm tapping out of this one. Good luck, Nat."

"Coward," Natasha whispered teasingly as he walked past her to his car.

"Just when I think you are getting better about not provoking people, you pull that stunt," Pepper chastised. "I keep thinking, 'did he really just taunt Ross in front of the whole council?' I hate that I keep having to answer, 'yes. He did!'"

"To be fair, he was trying to make the Avengers look bad first," Natasha said. Tony perked and held his hand out for an "inconspicuous" down low. She smacked it without even looking.

Pepper sagged, giving in to the horrors bestowed upon her from the universe. "It's useless. Now there's two of you. You guys give partners in crime a whole new meaning."

"Love you, Pep!" Tony called as she joined Rhodey in the car.

"So back to the Tower or do we have to stay tonight?"

Tony sucked in a deep breath. "I assume another meeting will be called tonight, if the past meetings are anything like today's. They'll probably have their lawyers come up with some weak arguments or loopholes to at least try to weasel their way out of the agreement."

Tony put on his sunglasses and smiled over at her. "Lucky for you, I have a lunch date to make up for, and an amazing hotel room already reserved."

Natasha made an overly pleased noice. "And where are Pepper and Rhodey staying?"

"Same hotel, different room," Tony assured her.

She grinned, leaning over the console to give him a kiss. "I guess I really am lucky, then."

****

_"T-minus 5 minutes until touch down,"_ Clint informed through the comms. _"Time to get pretty."_

"You heard him. Masks on," Steve commanded, tossing the gas masks to the small team. "We don't need any surprises when we get there"

"Are we even sure these will work?" Sam asked, turning his over in his hands skeptically. "You'd think Hydra would find a way to make these-I don't know, useless? Obsolete?"

"It shouldn't effect you guys at all since you're non-mutates, but yeah, Bruce said they will filter out the serum. The particles are presumably .7 micron and these masks were designed to filter-"

"So yeah. They'll work," Bucky said, cutting him off, his voice slightly muffled through the mask. Peter quirked his head.

"You're doing that nervous talking thing," Steve said, looking somewhere between amused and sympathetic.

"I'm-I'm not nervous. I was just answering the question."

Sam barked out a laugh. "Of course you were. Just so you know, a yes or no will suffice."

Outside the window, Peter watched as the Convention Center came into view, the area surrounding it amass with chaos. People were running in different directions, cars piling on top of each other, all racing to escape the turmoil. Peter could hear the faint popping of what sounded like gunshots through the metal walls of the quintet and, as expected, wisps of cloud like smoke spiraled up toward the sky from the open door and windows.

Bucky and Sam shared a look that made Peter tighten his hands into fists.

 _”Touching down."_ There was a slight jolt, knocking Peter into Bucky's shoulder. _"My bad, guys."_

Bucky shrugged it off with a small smile, knocking into his shoulder again. "Moxie up, kid. We've got this."

Peter nodded, but the obvious tension in his shoulders didn't wane. Usually he would feel energized knowing he was going into a fight, but now all he could focus on was the dark cloud enveloping his mind with a sense of foreboding.

"Alright, listen up. We go in, assess the situation, and go from there. Got it?" Steve asked, his tone taking on an authoritative edge. He seemed to tower over them, but it didn't make Peter uncomfortable. It felt protective. "If I say it's time to leave, we go straight back to the jet. All of us. Understood?"

_"Copy that. I'm staying high."_

Peter was surprised when Sam and Bucky each gave a curt nod, neither bothering to argue, their eyes hard with determination. When Peter looked back at Steve, his eyes were narrowed.

"Peter?"

"Oh. Uh, yes. Absolutely. Got it."

Steve frowned, obviously regretting his decision not to tie Peter up and throw him in the closet when he had the chance. He sighed heavily then signaled the others to follow as he led them out.

"God, Tony is going to kill me for this."

Bucky patted his back in commiseration. "Yeah, these assholes better not damage my arm. He's not gunna be in the mood to make repairs."

No. No, he would not. Peter would be lucky if Tony didn't lock him away permanently after this. If he didn't, Natasha probably would.

"They were expecting us," Clint warned ominously.

As if of cue, the door dropped and three men charged inside. Bucky moved quicker than Peter thought possible and took took the closest one out with a hard jab to the jaw, a sickening crunch resounding before his body collapsed.

"Whoa, okay," Peter said, lenses widening. "So that happened."

Falcon's wings sprung from their sheath with a metallic whir, and he surged forward, grabbing the other two before shooting from the jet, flying upward waiting until he was at least 40 feet above them before letting them go. Peter winced as their bodies dropped like wet blankets.

_So we're killing people. Okay._

"You good?" Steve asked with a heavy hand.

Peter nodded, but he sounded out of breath as he spoke. "Yeah. Sure. Let's do this."

Peter ran out into the bright sun, relieved that the lenses dimmed a bit.

It was obvious they were told Steve and Bucky would be the biggest threats, most of the gun power focused on bringing them down. They were no match for either though.

Two men headed for Clint, who was focused on plucking out agents from the top of the quinjet.

"Whoa, hey. Back up, guys. Barton isn't interested," Peter said, shooting a web at the large satellite dish behind them, knocking their feet out from under them as he pulled it free, sending them flying over the side. "He has a wife."

 _"And she's hot,"_ Clint yelled out.

Peter shrugged, webbing them against the wall. "See? He says she's hot."

More people were popping out of various positions, and Peter managed so web a few to the ground. He could hear grunts of pain as the others pushed to the edge of the building.

"Karen, what is that light over there? Can you scan it?"

Peter's spidey-senses alarmed him just as a heavily armored fist connected with his side. He hissed in pain, instinctively dropping down to swipe the assailants feet out from under him. He hovered over him, webbing his hands down. "Dude. Did you not see I was talking?"

Peter punched him hard enough to knock him. "Jerk."

"Initiating scan," Karen informed him.

" _What the hell is going on?" Sam yelled through the comms. "They just keep coming."_

Bucky took a quick look around and realized he was right. They were really making good on their motto. If a head is cut off, two more shall take its place. Even more concerning, none of them were coming from the inside of the building. _"It was a trap."_

"What do you mean? They just wanted to fight us?" Peter asked, just barely dodging a dart. He webbed the hand of the shooter to another operatives face, then pulled, making both fall face first into the concrete. "Yikes. You guys are gunna need braces."

 _"Or get to you,"_ Steve muttered, angrily. He cursed, and the sound of fumbling filled the line. _"Regroup. We are getting too spread out."_

An arrow flew past Bucky and lodged into the neck of one of the attackers.

 _"If they are after Peter, we need to get him out,"_ Clint said. _"We can't risk it."_

”What about the people?” Peter asked.

 _”For all we know, there was probably never was any people inside,”_ Sam said. _“Do you see any Hydra guys rushing out passed out people? Cuz I don’t.”_

 _”We can hold them off for a bit longer until the police arrive, just in case,"_ Steve answered. _"Then we are gone. Understood?"_

"Scan complete," Karen said, suddenly. "It appears that they are using smaller versions of the cloaking device on their vehicles. The frequencies seem to be emitting a faint glimmer. The largest is approximately 30 feet away."

"Their vehicles?" Peter's thoughts raced, then he nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Let's focus on taking those out. Then we can get everyone out."

 _"Peter? Is that understood?"_ Steve repeated.

"Yes. Fine, yes," Peter snapped.

"Would you like me to engage Electric Web?"

"Uhm, yes? Absolutely."

"Electric Webs are ready."

Peter flicked his wrist eagerly, and the metallic web shot out, covering the first vehicle, looking as if it were suspended in midair. Peter almost worried that it hadn't worked, then the web lit up brightly, the electricity in the air enough to raise the hairs on his arm, and the vehicle let out a deafening crack, then appearing from thin air.

 _"What the hell was that?"_ Bucky asked.

 _"Looks like Peter just exploded their clown car,"_ Clint answered.

"Clown cars," Peter corrected, shooting at the other three in rapid succession.

 _”Good work, kid. See? I knew we should bring him along,”_ Clint gloated.

“Peter, I took the liberty of running a preemptive scan of the building. My sensors detect a minimum of 1 and maximum of five people inside the building.” 

Peter froze. There _were_ people inside. He looked over at the others, still struggling to take down the agents, and he took a breath.

“I’ll be right back,” Peter forced out hurriedly, shooting out a web at the street light before he could talk himself out of it. “In and out in a second, I promise!”

 _“What?”_ Steve shouted, his head snapping up just as Peter swung around then downward on his web. _“What are you doing?”_

“There’re people inside and can’t just leave them,” Peter replied. “I’ll be fast. Won’t even know I’m gone.”

 _”Who’s idea was it to bring the kid again?”_ Sam asked, sighing angrily over the com.

 _”In all fairness, I now understand your hesitation,”_ Clint said, sheepishly.

Peter swung inside and dropped to the floor, hurriedly scanning the room as he moved forward.

The smell of concession foods and popcorn lingered in the air, and abandoned half-crushed cups slicked the tiled floors. The banner for the convention must've dislodged during the rush to escape the gunfire, as it dangled from one corner to the floor, but all of the vendor stalls were still set up with bright colored, science-themed toys and balloons, looking eerily empty, the only remnants of the happy day it should have been.

"All clear," Karen assured him. "All heat signatures are within the Event Hall."

Peter pressed for the comms in his palm. "I'm moving to the main hall."

 _"This was not part of the plan,"_ Steve growled, throwing his shield into three men.

_"Too late now, Cap," Sam said._

_"Just hurry up,"_ Buck said gruffly, the distinct sound of flesh on metal ringing through. _"They're moving fast."_

"Got it."

Peter swung from the bannisters, until the smoke was too thick to see, dropping into a crouch on the floor.

"Karen, change to heat sensors please?"

Peter's vision changed and he looked around the room. There were three people laying on the floor, one about 20 feet away and the other two about 15 feet away from each other in the far corner.

"There are three people. I can probably carry two but I'll need some help with the third," Peter said, running over to the first two. "Either that or I'll have to come back."

Above them, the fight was still going strong. Even with Peter taking out their vehicles, the agents were relentless. They seemed to be endless and the ones that fell just kept coming back for more.

 _"What was that last part?"_ Steve asked. _"You're cutting out."_

"I said I'm going to need help, or I'm going to have to come back for the third person," Peter answered, his voice strained as he heaved the first of the men over his shoulder.

Steve breathed heavily, yelling out over the others. "Can you guys hear Peter?"

Bucky shook his head. "I've got nothing. All static."

 _"We lost him,"_ Clint said. _"Damn it."_

"I'll go get him. You guys just keep these guys off our backs," Sam said.

"But I-" Steve started to argue.

_"We really need you up here, Cap," <\i>Clint interrupted. _"We can handle it, Sam. Just-"__

"Hurry. I know."

Sam dropped from the sky like a bomb, his wings angling and tucking at just the right moment for him to fly through the open doors. He hit the ground running, his breathing loud and heavy through his mask.

 _"See anything?"_ Steve asked, worriedly.

"Not yet," Sam answered. "Almost to the Event Hall." Just about that time, Peter was walking out, two men on his shoulder.

"I see him. He's okay," Sam assured them.

"The girl is in there," Peter shouted. "I couldn't carry all of them."

Sam looked out past Peter then back. "I'll get her. You just get them out and get to the jet."

Peter nodded, and webbed his unconscious passengers down before swinging his way back to the front.

Peter heard the sirens of an ambulance and ran over, passing his Tagalongs off to them.

"They should be fine," he told the paramedics hurriedly. "Just get them to the hospital and watch out for them."

With that, he swung back to the roof which was now, quite literally, covered in dozens of fallen Hydra agents. There were only a few still standing, and Peter figured within the next minute or so, they would be gone too.

"Peter. I swear to god," Steve started angrily.

"Sam's getting the last one. They're all safe."

Steve bit back his retort, just happy to see Peter all in one piece. Steve wrapped him in his arms, and Bucky watched their backs, keeping the Hydra agents off of them.

 _"Uhm, guys?"_ Clint said. _"I think they’re leaving leaving."_

Steve looked up and his brows furrowed. What was left of the agents were retreating to the far side of the building, jumping off then disappearing into what was presumably a new vehicle. Clint managed to pick off another two, but it happened so quickly there wasn't much else they could do.

"Why would they do that?" Bucky asked. "They were dead set on killing' us a minute ago."

“But-they didn’t even take the people? Why would they incapacitate them just to leave them behind? Do you think maybe there were more and I didn’t get there in time?” Peter asked. “Karen said there could have been up to five people.”

 _”Hydra’s people weren’t even in there,”_ Clint pointed out, still on the Quinjet. _“All of their men were out here.”_

Steve looked around, just as confused. If they weren't here for Peter, and they didn't take the mutates, what were they after?

"Where's Sam?" Bucky asked, suddenly. He stepped over, grabbing Peter's arm almost painfully hard. "Peter, where is he?"

"I-I don't know," he stammered. "He said he was going to get the last girl and then-"

Bucky didn't wait for him to finish, running to the side of the building and Peter's heart stopped as he leapt off the side without hesitation.

Steve turned to Peter and leveled him with a pleasing look. “Please, just stay here. Get back to the jet with Clint.”

Peter nodded, unable to work up the want to argue and Steve followed Bucky straight off the edge.

They didn’t have to go far to find him. Among all of the the wreckage of the laid not only the limp body of their friend, but the mutate girl. Bucky was at his side first, checking his pulse as Steve watched worriedly a feet feet back.

“He’s alive. I think he’s just unconscious.”

Steve let out a relieved breath.

Bucky bent over, heaving him up in a cradle carry and Steve grabbed the girl.

“What the hell is going on?” Steve wondered out loud. “None of this makes sense.”

“I know,” Bucky replied, ominously even. “But that just means they’ve got us right where they want us.”

*****

“So how was it?” Tony asked, climbing into his seat. “Be honest.”

“It was definitely not what I expected,” Natasha said, honestly.

Plaid checkered tables, wire jelly and jam holders, mason jar cups, and Texan accents so thick Natasha wondered if they were real we’re just a few of the highlights. The best, of course, was the food.

“Does that mean you didn’t like it?” Tony said, but their was a smugness in his tone that said he already knew the answer.

“It was amazing,” Natasha admitted. “The portions were outlandish, but when it tastes that good, how can you complain? I can’t believe I’ve never even heard of that place before.”

Tony smiled, looking out the windshield nostalgically as he pulled on to the highway. “Jarvis and Ana used to take me there when I was younger, almost every Sunday when I was in college. It was cheap then too.”

“I bet that was nice. They sound like really good people.”

“They were. The best, really. Even though Ana swore I was the reason for her high blood pressure.”

“I can commiserate with that. And so can Pepper.”

Tony laughed at that. “I’m sure she will forgive me. Eventually.”

Natasha smirked, then her face fell, eyes locked on something in the road ahead of them.

A child.

Tony stomped on the breaks, but he knew it was no use. They were going too fast. He pulled at the wheel, just barely avoiding a head on collision with another car, but the turn was too sharp. The air disappeared from his lungs. He could feel my wheels lifting from the ground, and his arm jutted out, slamming into Natasha's chest just as the car crashed against the guard rail. He heard a loud crack beside him, then the air bag deployed. A severe pain exploded in his chest, wrist and face. Glass flew all around them and he willed the car to stop moving as it rolled over the rail on its side. It didn't, and rocked onto it's top.

Tony didn't want to move, but he knew he couldn't just sit there.

"Nat?" He mumbled through bloody teeth. "Nat? You okay?"

"Fuck," she ground out.

Tony let out a small, wet laugh. "Yeah. Fuck. You alright?"

She winced in pain as she brushed the blood-sticky hair out of her face, every part of her body feeling instantly sore. "Peachy. You?"

"Could be better."

Tony bent his neck to get a look at her and his stomach dropped. She was deathly pale except for the blood streaming down the right side of her face, almost her whole hand covered. His heart stuttered painfully in his chest.

"It's okay though," he assured hurriedly. He wasn't sure who he was assuring though, her or himself. "It's going to be okay."

Tony reached up and tried to unbuckle his seatbelt, but it was jammed.

"JARVIS?"

There was no response. Tony pressed his chest to access his nanobots, but nothing happened. They must have gotten damaged in the accident. It shouldn't have been possible. He tried again, but still nothing.

He growled in frustration. He tugged and shook the belt again until he was sure it wasn't going to budge, then stopped to think for a moment, giving his tired arms time to rest. He could hear the metal groan and the sound of liquid sizzling on the hot engine with a tick, tick, tick.

"Natasha. You happen to have a knife on you, love?"

Natasha mumbled something incoherent, and Tony bit his lip. She was starting to lose consciousness.

"Fuck. No, no, no."

He groaned, adjusting himself to stop the belt from digging into his hips and dropped his arms, trying to push himself upwards, hoping that if he held up some of his weight with one hand, he could unbuckle himself with the other. He sucked in air between his teeth as the glass dug into his hand, but he pushed through it. He shouted out in frustration and hit the steering wheel.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe through his ensuing panic attack.

"Natasha, honey. I need you to get out of the car. I need you to stick with me here. I'm going to unbuckle you, but I need you to get out," Tony said, sternly, forcing himself to continue even through the cracks in his voice. Natasha's eyes fluttered, but she nodded.

Fortunately, Natasha's seatbelt didn't seem to be having the same problem his was. He unclicked it tried to help support her weight as much as he could as she fell, but that wasn't nearly enough. She hit the roof at what looked like a painful angle, but at least she wasn't upside down now.

"Natasha?"

No answer.

"Nat, baby. You have to get out of the car."

Silence.

Tony swore. She must've passed out.

He hurriedly looked around, searching all along the roof of the car for his phone. He had to get help. He just had to. He tried to reach beneath the seats, but they were too far. The familiar whoosh of a car gave him hope, but it was crushed quickly. They was too far from the road for someone to see from the far lane.

Tony froze as he heard glass crunching beneath shoes.

"Hello?" He called out, his voice raw. Black shoes stood a few feet from what used to be the hood of the car.

"Natasha! The passenger. Help her. Please. Get her out first, she's hurt. Just be careful."

He watched as the footsteps walked to the passenger side and bright blue eyes met his through the shattered window. Tony's heart lifted for about half a second, then plummeted when the man grinned menacingly, pulling out a syringe.

"Hail Hydra."

The syringe buried deep into Natasha's skin and Tony flew into a panic, tugging at the seat belt again. Hydra. Not Natasha. Not Natasha. Him, fine. Not her, anyone but her. Tony ripped at the buckle with all his might, his hands fumbling and shaking, but finally it came free.

Tony gasped in pain, hysteria bubbling into his throat as he scrambled through glass and blood to Natasha's terrifyingly still body. Tony's eyes flitted around the car, looking for the assailant, but he was gone. He was too late. Tony checked Natasha's pulse, weak but there. She was okay for now. He crawled through the busted window, and used his shirt to cover the jagged edges before carefully lifting and dragging Natasha from the car through the pain of his busted wrist.

A light caught Tony's eye and he looked down at his chest. The nanobots were active again. Tony cursed, glad to have them back, but worried about the implication that came with him regaining them after the Hydra agent left.

"JARVIS, you there?"

"Yes sir. We appear to have lost connection temporarily."

"We will figure that out later," he said, his body now encased in the Iron Man suit. "I need you to contact Dr. Cho and tell her to meet us on the hangar. Send a jet if you have to."

"Sir, you're pulse is dangerously high, and you have lost a lot of blood.

"I'm fine. Just take over and get us home."

"Yes sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that’s that. Sorry if it seemed rushed the last two scenes. That was mostly because I rushed. 🤷🏻♀️ Who knew that would happen, right?


	17. The Aftermath of Chaos Is Just More Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took so long posting because on my other fic(which you should check out if you love Sterek from Teen Wolf) kept getting buried in Christmas posts and I could NOT let that happen to WTSSL. Sorry it took forever! Love you(:

The team was relatively silent on the way back to the Tower. Bucky and Steve were talking quietly as they bustled around, picking and prodding at Sam, removing his armor, trying to figure out what exactly happened, but he didn't have any outward injuries that they could see. No head injuries or bruises of any kind. That only seemed to trouble them more, despite his heartbeat and breathing being steady and strong. If they didn't know any better they would think he was sleeping, but no matter what they tried to do to wake him, his eyes remained closed.

Peter could almost feel the weight of blame on his shoulders. Nobody said it, but they didn't have to. He did so many things wrong. His stomach ached, his whole body hot with shame and nausea, and he wished more than anything he could go back and do things different. He replayed every scene again and again until he truly thought he would be sick.

Peter went against his orders. Then, when he couldn't handle the situation on his own, he left Sam behind and made him vulnerable. All of this because was too busy trying to act like a hero. Some hero he was. Sam got hurt and he didn't even notice. They wanted to trick him, to trick all of them, and they succeeded.

 _You did it again,_ the voice in his head taunted. _How many people are you going to get hurt before you finally give up?_

Peter couldn't even look up when they landed, too afraid of what he might see in their faces if he did

"Let's get him to the medical bay," Steve ordered, sweat beading on his forehead. He and Bucky set up the the portable gurney and lifted Sam onto it, his arms hanging limply at his side. Peter noticed Sam's skin had turned slightly ashen since he last looked up. Guilt dug at his throat with sharp talons, threatening to suffocate him, but his body seemed to be working, even if his mind wasn't. He followed slowly behind them, watching as they rushed forward, the infirmary doors opening and shutting in front of him, leaving him standing in the Greeting Parlor.

He could hear Clint walking up from behind him, but it didn't seem to really register, like background noise, too distant from his present state of mind to seem prevalent. Clint put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped away like the touch physically burned him.

"Hey. He'll be okay, kid," Clint assured him, giving him a sad smile. "He's tougher than he looks."

Peter nodded, but Clint wasn't sure if he actually heard what he said. He gently guided Peter over to the couches and handed him a water. Peter nodded in thanks, and Clint took a seat beside him.

Within minutes, there was a loud rumble from outside, and Clint sighed in relief as a smaller jet landed near theirs. "Thank god."

A young woman with kind eyes and straight black hair pulled high and out of her face hurried inside with a small team of nurses and aides. Clint jogged over to meet them.

"You got our page," Clint said gratefully, falling into step beside her. "He's right through there."

"How bad is the damage?" She asked, pulling some gloves out of her lab coat pocket. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, with a seriousness of a soldier preparing for battle.

"We don't see any so far. He just won't wake up," Clint explained.

Dr. Cho tilted her head. "The request I got said there was a lot of blood loss, multiple injuries, maybe a fracture or two between the both of them."

"Both?" Clint asked, shaking his head in confusion. "No. It's just Sam."

Dr. Cho stared at him for a moment then stopped, turning to one of the people on her team, speaking lowly. "Call in more people. The rest of you go set up two more beds. We need all hands on deck."

"What is going on?" Clint demanded. "Who else got hurt?"

"I've got to go get ready. I'm sorry," She said, dismissing herself. Clint watched her leave in astonishment.

The next few minutes were absolute mayhem. Thor, Loki, and Bruce arrived from downstairs and Clint gave them a quick overview of what happened before Bruce disappeared into the MedBay. Thor and Loki posted themselves outside of the MedBay and Clint worked on calling the others, but Pepper and Rhodey were the only ones he'd gotten a hold of so far.

Shortly after, The Iron Suit landed outside, pulling Peter from his stupor until the smell of old blood and sweat hit Peter like a blow. Natasha was hanging lifelessly in Tony's arms, her hair dark and matted with dried blood, a deep gash on the right side of her head. Clint rushed forward, taking her in his arms, a look of pure unadulterated devastation paling his features, and Peter just gaped, a million emotions flowing through him. He wanted to push everyone out of the way, to beg her to wake up, but his feet were glued to the floor.

"What happened?" Clint demanded. "Tony! Answer me!"

Tony didn't respond.

Gurneys flew past Thor, Loki and then Peter, nurses armed to the teeth with various triage equipment on both sides of each. Peter didn't understand why there were two gurneys, until the Iron Man armor melted away, exposing a mangled, unconscious Tony underneath.

Clint took a step back, his jaw clenching as he took in the sight.

"Oh god," Peter said, watching as the nurses took Natasha from a now-frozen Clint, and pulled Tony down, the bottom half of his armor the only thing holding him up. They began strapping the two to the tables, and Peter could feel his heart pounding everywhere. His hands, his ears, the soles of his feet. Neither of them so much as flinched from the gloved hands touching them. There were no groans or hisses of pain. Just the scratch of velcro, hushed voices, and the bustling of movement.

When they passed, everything else faded away. Peter's whole body tensed and he couldn't breathe. He could hear their heartbeats, weak and staggering. That and their disturbingly still bodies sent flashes of memories swinging back and forth from the past to the present. Concrete and sirens. Bruises and cuts. Greying brown hair. Matted red curls. The smell of death. Death. He jammed the heels of his hands into his eyes, praying to anything that would listen for it to stop. _Pale. Bloody. Too much. It's too much. Not again. I can't do this again._

Peter let out a low whine from deep in his throat, the sound covered slightly by his labored panting. He dropped his hands and took a step, but that was the wrong decision, his shaking legs almost making him collapse to the floor. Once he moved, though, he couldn't stop.

"Tony," he croaked, fumbling forward. "Nat! Wait. No. Wait, please!"

The nurses didn't stop. The doors flew open, and they rushed him inside. Someone was calling his name.

"Wait! No, no, please! Tony. I have to see them, please. Wait!"

Strong warmth wrapped tightly around him and he tried to push it away, flailing his arms. "Let go! I can't-I have to see them. Let go of me!"

He could hear Thor talking to him quietly next to his ear, his voice soothing and calm but that only seemed to make Peter fight harder, despite the screaming numbness in his body. Thor was struggling to hold him, but he kept his feet firmly planted.

"I don't want to hurt you! Just let me go!"

"There's nothing we can do for now," Thor insisted, pulling Peter flush against his chest. "They are trained for this. They cannot do their work if you are in there. You have to let them go."

Peter felt a flash of anger so strong it scared him, but when it faded, the pain left behind was worse. He choked on a half sob, and the dam that had been shuddering for the last two months shattered, his whole body sagging boneless into Thor's arms. He could feel hot tears pouring down his face and he wanted the world to open up and swallow him whole. He wasn't scared of the darkness nor the emptiness. He just didn't want to feel anymore. He wanted to flip a switch and never feel this kind of pain ever again, even if it meant he couldn't feel the good either. He would do it without hesitation. But he couldn't. So he cried.

"Can you lift him?" Loki asked Thor lowly. Thor gave him a firm nod. "Alright then. Let's take him to his floor."

Thor pulled him up and Loki was right there beside him, a silent protector and supporter. Peter's whole body wracked with the power of his panicked shuddering breaths, his chest aching. Peter couldn't make sense of what was going on, just the feeling of hands on him. but through the haze of panic and despair, he could feel when they lowered him onto what he presumed was the couch. He curled in on himself, pulling the blankets up, not wanting them to see him like this. Weak. Ashamed. Broken.

"Is this normal?" Thor wondered out loud. Loki pursed his lips.

"I'm unsure. I'll take it from here. Check on Barton."

Thor left as Loki bent down beside Peter, touching his hair gently over the blanket. Peter didn't pull away, but his eyes cinched shut, trying to focus on that feeling rather than everything else.

"They can't die," Peter whispered brokenly. "They can't."

Loki's hands paused in his hair, then resumed. "They will be fine, Mischief. They have been through far worse."

Peter didn't reply, and Loki just murmured reassurances. A few minutes later, after his breathing had finally evened, Loki must have thought he'd fallen asleep. He heard careful footsteps walking away, then the click of the lights. Peter took that as permission to sob unabashedly, unable to hold himself back anymore, the sight of pale faces and blood haunting him until he finally drifted to sleep.

****

Hours later, Bruce was looking at the results of the three injured Avenger's blood samples in his temporary lab at the back of the MedBay. Dr. Cho managed to replenish Tony and Natasha's blood supply, and once they were both patched up, they didn't look as bad as they originally thought. JARVIS' scans appeared correct in that Tony and Natasha suffered breaks. Tony's wrist was broken, and Natasha had a fractured collar bone and over a dozen stitches, but they would both heal in time. The main fear was the blood tests.

Even still, it wasn't quite as bad as Bruce expected. No deadly parasites or man-made diseases. In fact, Tony was completely clean. The other two were not quite as lucky.

Dr. Cho walked up behind him, a tea in hand. She laughed quietly at the dangerous villain Loki, asleep in an arm chair with a sheet pulled over him. Never thought she'd see that.

Bruce took the cup with a small appreciative smile. "Thank you."

"Anything for the guy who's going to fix my patients." Dr. Cho shoved her hands in her pocket and making the medicine cabinet keys jingle. "What's the verdict?"

"Not great. Could've been worse."

Dr. Cho nodded. She expected as much. Hydra didn't usually play easy. "What is it?"

"Some sort of modified coma-inducer," Bruce said, staring at the screen in front of him. "A mix of the usual medications but there's a problem.

"Coma-inducer?" Cho repeated, coming to stand behind him. She read through a few lines and made a surprised noise. "Time-release? You're sure?"

Bruce nodded. "I'm not sure how long it's supposed to last. We could try to counteract the effects with a cocktail of other medicines or try to filter it out of their blood, but Hydra is too intelligent not to include countermeasures to prevent just that."

Dr. Cho hummed in agreement, her brows pulled together. "I wouldn't use medications on them regardless. Not unless we tested it first. I'm sure you're right, though. They probably wouldn't work."

They both studied the screens, bouncing ideas off of each other, trying to distance themselves from the reality in front of them. Thinking about any of this would be impossible otherwise. Dwelling on how two people they cared about could stay locked in a coma for god knows how long was not going to help anyone.

"Think you can figure it out?" Cho asked.

"Without a doubt," Bruce said confidently. "This is far less complicated than the serum. It will take me a week, maybe two max."

Cho looked relieved at that. It was a lot easier to tell a group of superheroes that their friends were in a coma if you knew they would wake up. Having a time frame was even better.

In the other room, Tony shifted in his bed. He'd been doing it for a few hours, but so far, that was all he'd done. Steve and Bucky were watching over the three, staying busy trying to manage the mess of callers, directing them to Pepper's phone, denying statement after statement.

Steve sat his phone on the counter, rubbing his eyes. He didn't understand how Pepper dealt with those people.

"That bad?" Bruce asked.

Steve scoffed. "Makes me wish I learned how to forward these calls when Tony offered."

"They'll be here soon enough and Pepper can show you," Bucky said.

Steve craned his neck to peek behind the curtain to the entryway for what Bucky figured was the millionth time. What was sad was Steve probably actually believed he was being subtle. With a million other things going on, he still seemed to have one brown haired trouble maker on his mind.

Bucky opened up a granola bar from the drawer and tossed one to Steve. "He still sleeping?"

Steve fumbled for a second, but ultimately caught it, furrowing his brows confusion. "Who? Peter?"

"Yeah. You're driving me nuts," Bucky said, but it had no real bite. "Why don't you just go check on him?"

Steve sighed, leaning back again and setting the granola bar beside him. "Loki said he was in pretty bad shape. I don't want to bother him if he's sleeping. He needs it."

Bucky shrugged. Made sense. "You probably need to sleep soon, too. Maybe you can go up and sleep there. I'm sure Peter wouldn't mind."

Clint and Loki had both passed out hours ago. Thor was in his room, probably doing the same. The only people who hadn't slept at one point or another were Steve and Bruce.

"I think I will. I'm just waiting to hear Bruce's report. He said it should be in soon."

Steve perked when he heard the sheets rustled a second time. They were getting closer together now.

"Ow," Tony groaned, touching the large bruise on his forehead gingerly. Steve took a deep breath. Awake. That was always a good sign.

Steve grabbed one of the ice packs from the small mini fridge beside Tony's bed, and handed it to Tony with a sympathetic smile. "Be careful. You're pretty banged up."

"I feel it and not in the good way," Tony croaked.

"I'll go get Bruce."

Bucky nodded and took the seat beside Tony. "Had us scared for a minute. Thought we finally got rid of you."

Tony grimaced as he pushed himself up with his left hand, and let out a half-hearted chuckle. "If only you could be so lucky. Where's Natasha?"

Bucky nodded to the bed next to him. Tony turned his head, wincing at the dull ache in his neck, and blinked away the bleariness in his eyes. He saw Clint first. He was in a chair beside her, sleeping with his head resting on her bed, his hair sticking up messily in the back, his hand resting cradled in hers.

When his eyes locked on Natasha, he sucked in a sharp breath. God. She was frail looking, like glass, and ghostly white except for the sporadic discoloration on her face and arms. She was a collage of tubes and tape and bandages, and it made Tony want to kill. He wanted to find every last Hydra agent and blow them away until there was nothing left. A fire he didn't even realize he still had burned white hot beneath his skin.

Then he saw Sam, lifelessly still, but without a scratch.

His eyes shot to Bucky in question, and Bucky averted his eyes. This was above his pay grade. He'd let Stevie handle this one. "What the hell happened?"

Luckily, Steve, Bruce and Dr. Cho walked in and he turned his attention to them accusingly. "Anybody care to explain what's going on?"

"Soon," Dr. Cho smiled sadly. "How are you feeling?"

Tony glared at her with such conviction Steve flinched. "How do I feel? Hm. Let me see. My girlfriend is unconscious 10 feet away from me after being attacked by Hydra and I got rolled around in a freaking tin can of a car like a log down a steep hill. Now, I see Sam is down and you want to play cheerful doctor instead of answering a simple question. How do you _think_ I feel?"

A muscle in Dr. Cho's forehead twitched and her smile faded. "I need to know if you're okay. Until we know more, that is what we need to focus on. We can talk about all of that later. Your hand-"

"They attacked a Science Convention," Steve interrupted. Dr. Cho leveled him with a disapproving look, but he ignored it. If the roles were reversed he would want to know. "They were using the serum. We were fighting, and about halfway through we realized it might have been a trap. Peter tried to save the mutates-"

"You took Peter?" Tony snapped. He laughed humorlessly. "Are you serious?"

"Listen," Steve barked, his face stony and cold. This was already hard enough without Tony having a tantrum. Tony glared at him, but eventually nodded. There was no point in arguing. It was done.

Steve readjusted his stance. "Peter went in and grabbed two of the mutates from inside. We lost him on the comms so Sam went in after him. When he found out Peter was fine, Sam went after the last victim. Peter regrouped with us and Hydra left, but Sam never came out. We don't know what happened."

Tony tried to absorb everything, but that was just too much to take in at once. He shook his head trying to straighten his thoughts.

"News is calling it a domestic terrorist threat," Bucky added, crossing his arms. "We've been getting calls from General Ross."

Tony shook his head. He didn't care about any of that right now.

"Are they okay? Did they inject Sam with the same stuff as Natasha?" Tony asked.

Bruce nodded solemnly. "It was the same. We are trying to figure out how to undo the damage now. It could take a little while, but I think-"

"Are. They. Okay?" Tony repeated, his voice cracking.

Bruce and Cho exchanged hesitant glances, having a secret conversation with their eyes. Finally, it was Cho that spoke. "It isn't great news, but it's not the worst."

Tony's teeth grated together. "Tell me."

****

Peter could feel his head pounding before he was even fully conscious. A striking pain shot from deep behind his eyes. It was a familiar feeling, but honestly one he didn't think he would ever feel again. Not after Ben. Nobody could ever cry like that _three_ times in their life, right?

He sat up, not even trying to open his eyes, then rested his face in his hands, his blanket falling over his knees. He sat there for a long time, mulling over everything, before he tested the waters, blinking a few times.

When he finally removed his hands, he realized he was in his and Tony's living room. How they managed to move him all the way here without disturbing him was beyond him. It was dark, and there was no telling what time it was since the shades were drawn. He looked around, thankful that nobody was waiting with him. He wasn't ready to face anyone yet.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Peter?"

Peter took a deep breath, but found he was unable to ask the words he really wanted to know the answer to, so he did what he did best. He deflected. "What time is it?"

"It's 10:18 AM."

Peter nodded. He must’ve been asleep a while. It was the kind of sleep that you woke from feeling like you got hit by a truck. He pulled the blanket back up around him and leaned his head back against the couch.

"Thanks, J."

After that, his mind went silent and he stared at nothing in particular, eyes steady and glassy. Every once in a while, thoughts of Steve or Sam or Natasha or Tony would creep in, but he was quick to push them back. His head was comfortably empty and he could have probably sat that way for hours, in the limbo of not knowing, not thinking enough to care. As much as he wanted to stay in that place, he knew he couldn't avoid the problem forever. He tried again, clearing his throat of the gravel. "Are-Are they..?"

JARVIS waited, but no more words came. "If you are requesting a status on the three in the infirmary, they are all alive and stable. Boss is awake and reluctantly eating with a few of the others as we speak."

Peter sighed. Thank god.

"So they are going to be okay?"

JARVIS gave Peter a quick run through of the events that lead to Tony and Natasha becoming injured, as well as what Bruce had found, and Peter was understandably horrified. It could have been worse, they could have died, but a coma? It was unbelievable. How did Hydra manage to wrack such devastation to their team in one blow, separated by so many miles?

Steve was right.

Peter scoffed, disgustedly. Hydra made their move, just like he wanted. He never expected it to be like this, though. He never would have said that if he had even an inkling of an idea that it would lead to this. Peter was so far in over his head he couldn't even breathe.

Sam had people who looked up to him and depended on him. He made a difference in so many peoples lives. He cared about everyone at the center, always looking for new ways for them to rediscover the parts of themselves they thought they'd lost. Not only that, when he wasn't dedicating his life to fellow soldiers, he was here, helping to protect the world, side by side with his friends.

And Natasha. She was the glue that kept everyone together. She was the one person who bridged the cavernous gap between the two sides that formed from the Accords. She was strong and brilliant in everything she could get her hands into, but she was more than what she could offer to the team. She was kind, and loyal, and so damn loving in her own way that it hurt.

Now they were stuck in beds, for who knew how long.

Peter jumped when JARVIS spoke again. "Master Loki has been checking in on you. Would you like me to tell him you are awake?"

Peter thought about it, tapping on his knee. Loki was safe. He was sneaky and mischievous, but he liked Peter and unlike the others, Loki didn't know how how bad he messed up. Even if he did, Loki would understand. At least he hoped. "Yeah. Can you tell him I'm going to the MedBay and that I'm okay?

"Yes, sir. What about Captain Rogers?"

Peter straightened instantly, heartbeat skyrocketing, and shook his head vehemently. "Don't. He's probably busy."

There was a heavy pause, like JARVIS wasn't sure what to do with that answer. "Very well."

With that, Peter went to his room, brushing his teeth, but not bothering to shower even though he knew he probably still smelled of sweat and dirt from the fight. Peter got the sudden feeling like his room and everything in it was too big. Things he hadn't felt guilty for in weeks started to resurface again. He stared at the closet full of clothes that Tony and Natasha bought him, and felt a twisting in his gut. He reached to the back and pulled out his a cheap graphic tee shirt from the back and his old jeans.

He pulled them on, the familiar smell of home giving him slight comfort then turned. He took two steps before realizing something caught his eye from the hallway, causing him to stop. A boy in white. His skin crawled, and he slowly did a double take, but when he looked back, there was nobody there. Gingerly he made his way forward, looking and listening intently, but the hall was empty.

 _You're going crazy now,_ the voice crooned. _Can a mental case be a superhero?_

Peter gritted his teeth, and turned back to shut the door behind him. He didn't want to give himself too much time to talk himself out of going to the MedBay, especially over something as stupid as an overactive imagination. By the time he made it to the elevator, the boy was forgotten. All of his pent up anxiety was far from dissipating, but knowing that everyone was relatively okay for now made it worth the incessant buzz of unease.

The elevator opened and the Greeting Parlor was empty. His footsteps sounded unnaturally loud in the large room. He stopped at the MedBay doors, peeking through the glass, but he couldn't see anyone, just the small entry area and curtains. He huffed in quiet annoyance, but didn't know exactly where it was directed.

"Can I go in, J?" Peter asked quietly.

"Yes. They have made no restrictions on entry as of yet."

Peter nodded and pushed through the doors. He didn't miss this place at all, even if it was different than a usual hospital. All of the "rooms" were blocked off, and Peter wasn't sure what to do or where to go.

Bruce peeked around the corner, apparently having heard the doors. "Hey. Are you coming in?"

Peter's mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish.

"I-I'm not-I don't really-I don't know...what I'm doing," Peter finished lamely.

Bruce gave him a sympathetic nod, then waved him over. Peter was suddenly glad it was Bruce that he ran into. "Come this way. They're all over here."

Peter passed the first curtain then walked toward the back. He vaguely remembered someone saying that the right side was reserved for more serious injuries when he was there before. How bad did things have to be for the Avengers to call it serious? That wasn't a pleasant thought, even if Peter expected it.

The quiet chatter he could hear from the door grew easier to hear. He was surprised that the conversation seemed relatively light. Bruce stepped behind the curtain and Peter stopped just shy of crossing into sight.

Judging by the voices, there were just as many people he didn't want to see as there were people he did.

Bruce turned and looked at him expectantly, but Peter just stood there, rubbing his thumb at his side, rethinking his decision to come up. They talking stopped, everyone having noticed Bruce's reemergence.

"What is it?" Tony asked Bruce. "Did you get the papers or are you too busy gawking at the Norse God?"

Bruce gave him an incredulous, offended look as he held up the papers and Peter choked out a small laugh, grateful beyond belief to hear Tony being an asshole.

"Pete?"

Peter slowly stepped forward and Tony locked eyes with him. He could feel everyone staring, and Peter's eyes flitted nervously around the room, only avoiding one set of very blue eyes. All of them wore different expressions, and it left him feeling like a rabbit in a room of wolves. Peter chewed his lip and rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey. I-Uh-"

Peter's face scrunched up, and he shook his head of the voices in his head. He needed to get this out, better now than later. "I won't be here long. I just-I wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything."

Everyone exchanged looks.

"You're sorry?" Rhodey finally asked. Peter must have misunderstood his tone, because he flinched away from the question.

Everyone frowned, obviously confused by the sudden change of atmosphere, and Tony sighed. He knew a guilt-driven martyr apology when he saw one. Tony gave Bruce a meaningful look, but his brows furrowed in confusion until Tony tilted his head toward the door, exasperatedly. He was not about to have this conversation in front of everyone.

"Oh, uhm. Right," Bruce stammered. "How about we give them a minute? For science."

Tony rolled his eyes and fought the urge to get out of the bed and kick them all out himself. That would have been less obvious.

Peter stepped to the side, giving everyone plenty of room to file out. Steve stopped, looking over Peter with something like apprehension on his face, but when Peter didn't meet his eyes, he clenched his fist at his side and reluctantly followed the others out. It was a relief to say the least.

"Sit."

Peter bit the inside of his cheek but didn't argue. Peter couldn't help but stare at all of the wires connected to Tony. He looked more like a machine now than he did in the Iron Man suit.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Tony assured him. "Worst I got is a broken wrist, apparently from Natasha's air bag. I'll be out of here in a day, two tops."

Peter didn't look convinced.

"So what's with the apology?"

Peter frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Tony said emphatically, "that it's not needed or wanted."

Peter's frown turned to a scowl. _They expected this from you. That's why they wanted to keep you here. No apologies needed when it's par of the course._

"I'm not going to sugar coat it. If you want that, go to Thor or Clint. They've got enough cavities they should be rolling in the stuff," Tony said. He paused but Peter just steeled himself, ready for whatever Tony was going to say. "What you did was stupid."

Peter winced, but Tony continued.

"Going at all when I explicitly told you not to was stupid. But what happened wasn't your fault. Them getting to Sam, or any one of them, would have happened with or without you. They would have split the team or attacked them until someone was vulnerable. It happened to us and you were nowhere near us," Tony pointed out.

Peter kept his eyes trained on his twisted hands. Tony didn't understand. He wasn't there. Steve probably didn't tell him how many times he was told not to leave. How many times they asked if he was going to listen, and he still he didn't. He lied because he thought he knew better.

"It's not just me that thinks that. We all know it was going to happen one way or another. Playing the blame game isn't going to get us anywhere. What will help is that pretty head of yours that everyone mistakes for having my genes getting in the game and helping us figure this out."

Peter's head shot up. "You want me to help?"

Tony nodded, with a small smirk. "Steve insisted. Said it would be a waste not to use you. I happen to agree. I've been saying that since the start."

Peter chewed on that and Tony continued. "Nobody is mad at you, kid. I promise. Would I lie to you?"

Peter stared scrutinizingly at him. No. Tony hadn't lied to him, not that he knew of. He hadn't always told him the whole truth, but he never flat out lied. He wished he could say the same, but it was too late to take any of that back, and even if he could he wasn't sure he would. Could what he said really be true, though? It didn't seem likely.

"Did JARVIS fill you in?"

Peter nodded.

"Well, I need to figure out how Hydra managed to temporarily disable my nano bots, but that is going to have to wait. I'm going to start using the one of the old suits until then and hope that'll be enough to keep them from being able to manipulate it. Bruce is working on how to counteract the effects of whatever they injected Sam and Nat with while I try to recover the feed from Sam's body cam and get a better idea of what happened. Maybe it will help us understand why they chose Nat and Sam."

"You don't think it was just convenience?" Peter asked, frowning.

Tony shrugged. "Can't be too sure. They could have easily gotten to me, but they chose Nat. Maybe they were after Sam specifically too."

"That makes sense. So which do you want my help with?" Peter asked.

"I can handle the body cam feed from here by myself. If you could do a little research and collaborate with Bruce, that would probably be the best place for you."

Peter nodded again, but with a bit more confidence this time. Whatever Tony needed to fix this, he could do it. He could be useful. If this was what it took to help Nat and Sam, he would spend every waking hour on it. It was the least he could do.

Tony was surprised at the sharp look of determination in his eyes. It contrasted so vividly with the rest of his features. The slump in his shoulders, the way he angled himself away from Tony, like he was trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

If Tony was being honest, he thought that Peter would have been the first face he saw when he woke up, but it suddenly clicked why he wasn't. How he didn't put it together until that instant, he didn't know. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, almost detached looking. Eyes like his weren't those of someone who was upset. Peter was spiraling. Natasha warned him that it might happen weeks ago, when he first started pulling away, but this must have finally been the straw that broke the camels back. It wasn't surprising, knowing his past, but with everything else that had accumulated on top of that?

Tony could list off a million things he'd done wrong over the years. Every bad decision, every wrong turn, every word said out of anger he could recall with disturbing clarity. He knew what the kid was feeling, but he didn't know how to deal with it. Not really. If he did, he would have been able to sleep a lot better at night himself. But he did know how to use an opening when the opportunity presented itself, and how Peter just reacted gave him just that. What Peter needed was something to focus on. Someone to help. Even if that meant telling more of the truth than Tony was comfortable with.

"Look, kid," Tony started again, his voice softening. "I really need you on this. I wasn't doing so hot when I first woke up. Bruce talked me through the game plan, and that helped but this? Everything that's going on? Its a lot and I can't live with this," Tony said motioning to Nat and Sam. "I just can't. We have to fix it and I don't care how long it takes or what we have to do. I just need you to stick with me, okay?"

"Okay. Anything you need," Peter agreed, and he meant it. He looked to Natasha then swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry. I know it's not my fault," Peter lied before Tony could argue. "I just mean I'm sorry that this happened. None of you deserve this."

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "But they'll get what they deserve. You can count on that."

"Yeah, I know," Peter said darkly. He was going to make sure of that.

******

Steve sat with his arms crossed on his chest, his knee bouncing impatiently. Everyone was tense, and he could tell they were all thinking the same thing he was. They shouldn't have left.

Peter apologized. Out of everything Steve expected for him to say, that was probably close to the last. He knew why, as he was sure everyone else did, but it still felt wrong that Peter thought he had to. Steve was definitely planning on lecturing him, maybe scheming with Tony to help tie him to a post or something the next time something happened, but Steve didn't blame Peter. Hydra was good at finding weak spots, and as much as he loved Peter's selfless nature, that was something that Hydra never hesitated to exploit.

Even worse, Peter wouldn't even look at him. He looked at everyone else, but he avoided Steve like he was scared of him or something. Like he thought he had to walk on eggshells around him or else the thing that they were building together would collapse underfoot like the edge of a river bank. That hurt. Steve didn't want Peter to see him as someone to hide from. He wanted to be the same person Peter was to him: a person he could depend on. Peter looked like hell, and Steve couldn't even try to offer him any kind of reassurance, because he didn't want it.

While Peter refused to look at him, Steve couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of him. His beautiful eyes, even lighter against the dark circles and bloodshot vessels lining their whites. The delicate features and wary expression, long pale fingers were red and raw, yet his thumb continued to rub against them insistently with anxious energy. He could hear his heartbeat, always faster than everyone else's, was fluttering even more erratically, like like butterfly wings. He looked terrible, to say the least and he was regretting his decision not checking on him sooner.

"They're taking a while," Rhodey commented, tilting his head to peer over at the glass doors. "Good or bad thing?"

"$50 says good," Clint offered. Bucky raised a brow at him. "What? They are basically the same person. If anyone can figure out the magic words it's Tony."

"I'll take that bet," Thor said. Clint offered out his hand and Thor took it confidently.

"Once Peter knows they're gunna be fine, he'll be good," Bucky said, catching Steve's eyes. Steve gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. It was nice to know that he had Bucky in his corner. Thor, on the other hand, looked betrayed, and Bucky shrugged. "Like Clint said, they're the same person. If Tony got over it...see where I'm going with this?"

Thor couldn't argue with that logic. Everyone was sure Tony would be out of commission, unable to work because he needed to be by Nat's side every moment, but Tony knew better than to believe things would go faster without him. He had a mission, something to hold on to, and that was enough to push him through.

"Easy money," Clint cackled, rubbing his hands together maniacally.

"How're things on the coma front?" Steve asked Bruce. He heard that Bruce was going to be able to reverse it, but how he came to that conclusion was still vague at best. "Did the first tests come back?"

"Yeah. It was just as I thought. The hardest part will be figuring out how to stop the time releasing aspect of it. Normally in a medically induced coma, the patient is given a combination of medications to slow brain activity. To reverse it, you only have to slowly wean the patient off of the medication, then they wake up on their own. Somehow, they are using a single dose to span over a long period of time. We don't know what countermeasures Hydra took to prevent us waking them before the medication stops having an effect, so the best way is to stop the drug itself from releasing."

"That sounds hard," Clint said succinctly. Steve was glad he didn't have to be the one to say it. He wouldn't even know where to start with something like that.

"Like I told Cho, it'll be easier than the serum," Bruce said. "I just don't understand why they did it. We spent all that time trying to figure out how to fight the serum, then they use it for this? What did they gain? We keep coming back to that question and never have any answers."

"Besides pissing us off and making us down two people?" Bucky shrugged. "No idea."

"Have you told Laura?" Steve asked Clint.

Clint nodded. That conversation hadn't gone well. Laura and Nat were almost as close as she and Clint. "She wished she could come up here and at least see her but I told her the Tower wasn't the safest place to be right now."

"That's probably best."

The door clicked as it closed behind Loki, who's arms were filled with bags of food. After Tony complained about the "rabbit food" Dr. Cho was trying to get him to eat, he offered to order everyone something.

"Where's Peter?" He asked as he approached. "Did he decided against visiting?"

"He's with Tony," Rhodey said, taking two of the bags from him along side Bruce. "Dum and Dummer have a bet going on how it's going if you want in."

Loki turned to Thor, glaring in obvious disapproval. "I suppose you are Dummer, then? Was seeing Peter distraught not enough for you pause and think before engaging in such childish games?"

Thor shrunk away apologetically. "Perhaps I was not being considerate."

Loki gave him a harsh look as if to say, "you think?"

Thor paused, then as if compelled he continued, "If you did have to weigh in your thoughts, though..." Thor's lips turned down in question.

Loki's glare wavered and he let out a dramatic sigh. "Hopeless."

Bruce gave him a consoling pat on the back while everyone else snickered quietly.

Steve shook his head wearily, but jerked when he heard the MedBay doors open. Peter stepped out, looking no worse than he did when he came in. Peter had obviously noticed all of the attention on them and he waved awkwardly before walking toward the exit. Steve's stomach dropped, panicking slightly at the sight of his retreating back.

"We have lunch," Steve called out hurriedly. "If you're hungry. There's plenty for you."

Peter stopped, seemingly torn, and Steve readied himself to follow, but then Peter surprised him by slowly makin his way back over. "Okay. Thanks."

Steve had to keep from visibly melting in relief. He made a show of scooting over, and Peter worked to assess the movement. Steve had was acting like nothing happened. Why he was, he wasn't sure, but the hopeful look in Steve's puppy dog eyes was enough for Peter to take the seat beside him.

Nobody quite knew what to say, and Peter shifted. "What are we eating?"

The tension broke and everyone worked on unloading the bags, telling him what his options were with what was probably a bit too much gusto. Loki raised a questioning brow when he took some food and Peter gave him a subtle shrug. Food wasn't exactly on the top of Peter's priority list, the thought of eating sounding severely unpleasant, but he couldn't resist when it was Steve offering. Loki seemed to read his mind and gave him a small smile. He was a sucker for romance, after all.

"These are really good too," Clint said, tossing him two foil wrapped tacos.

"Thanks," Peter said, setting them beside him.

"You want some of my enchiladas?" Bruce asked.

"No, I'm good. Thank you, though," Peter said, lifting his already heaping plate. He suddenly wondered if Natasha's need to feed him when he was off was rubbing off on everyone else.

"Do you want to sit at the bar so you have a table? I can pull up another chair," Rhodey offered.

"Actually, would you guys mind if me and Peter took our food to go?" Steve asked, bagging up his food.

Peter felt adrenaline spike in his chest, waves of thoughts of potential conversations that mostly ended with "let's take a break" or "you need to find somewhere else to stay" entered his mind, but the arm that wrapped around his shoulders seemed to snuff most of them out. Peter felt off kilter, like nothing was quite making sense.

"Sure. I'll make a few calls to check out the hospital when I'm done here," Bucky said. "If you need me I'll be in the MedBay."

"We will be there as well," Loki said, looking to Peter. "I'm sure Tony is waiting for his food. Besides, someone must make sure Dr. Banner sleeps on occasion."

"I bet you have tons of ways to ensure he's nice and tuckered out," Clint smirked. Bruce scowled but Loki just smirked back.

"It is a great skill," Loki agreed smugly.

"Bruce's sex life aside, I'll probably see you guys tomorrow sometime," Rhodey said, dropping his forkful of food with the sudden depletion of his appetite. "I'm headed to talk with Ross after this."

Steve nodded, standing up. "Okay. Call me if you need anything. You coming?"

Peter was over analyzing everything as he walked with Steve. It felt like every inch between them was larger than life. Was this usually how far apart they walked? It didn't seem like it. They were usually so close he could feel his heat, and their hands brushed a lot, usually. Didn't they? The quiet was worse, heavy, but he wasn't sure with what. It could be too many things to guess.

What was only a short distance seemed to stretch on forever, but as soon as they hit the elevator, Steve dropped their bag and turned to him, making him stiffen. Steve looked over him scrutinizingly. Just when Peter thought his heart would surely fail from stress, Steve stepped forward.

"Can I hug you?" Steve asked.

Peter blinked, shocked, but nodded his head.

Instantly his arms were around Peter, so familiar and comforting the only thought that came to him was _home_ , drowning out everything else. Soft lips pressed against the top of his head.

"You scared me," Steve huffed, squeezing him until they were completely flush, no part of them untouching.

Peter eyes pressed tightly shut to ward of the stinging behind his lids. "I'm sorry. I should have listened. I don't know why-" Peter couldn't make himself finish.

"Shhh," Steve soothed, sweetly. "Don't be. Just stay with me, okay?"

Steve's hands thumbs rubbed intricate patterns on his back. "I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you, you know that right?"

Peter’s eyes stung. Steve...really didn't blame him. In fact, against all reason, he was actually worried for him. The sweet relief of the realization hit Peter hard, and his hands balled up in the soft, broken in materials, clinging for dear life. He didn't realize how much he craved this until now. Steve must've noticed his sudden death grip, looking at him hesitantly.

"Hey," Steve said softly, pulling back a bit. Peter's face was buried deep in his chest, and Steve wanted nothing more than to be able to know what he was thinking, how to make things better. "Look at me, Queens."

Peter wanted to, but he couldn't, not when he was so close to falling apart again. Steve started to pull away completely, and Peter gripped him tighter. "I-I thought they were all going to die."

Steve took a deep breath through his nose. God. Of course he did. He went to sleep after watching them wheeled away, unconscious. He didn't even know what had happened, much less that their injuries weren't severe.

"I'm sorry, Queens," Steve murmured brokenly. "I should have been there for you. I wish I would've been. Everything was so crazy, but that's no excuse. I should have checked on you."

"It's okay."

Steve nodded. "Everything is going to be okay. Bruce is going to figure everything out and everyone will be fine. _You're_ going to be fine."

Peter heard those words a lot, but coming from Steve, it seemed to make him relax in a way that the others hadn't been able to. It cut loose some of the ropes that were squeezing tightly around his heart, making him feel lighter.

Peter tilted his head up and forced a small smile. "Thanks."

"For what?"

Peter shrugged, listening to the calming thunder of Steve's heartbeat. "Just being you, I guess."

"You're welcome, then," Steve chuckled. "I missed you."

Peter rolled his eyes fondly, despite the fact that Steve couldn't see him. "We just saw each other last night."

Steve shrugged like that didn't matter. To him it didn't. "I know everything is still hard, but are you feeling any better after talking to Tony?"

Peter pondered that for a moment, then nodded, nuzzling his face back into the leather. "Feeling even better now."

"Me too, baby," Steve said, resting his chin on Peter's head. Peter felt pleasant warmth flood his body. That was new. Despite himself, Peter grinned up dopily at him. Steve smirked, but his face was slightly pink. "What are you grinnin' about?"

"Just noticed we graduated to pet names," Peter teased, then poked him in the chest. "You're accent comes out when you're embarrassed."

"I know. The horror. It keeps me up at night," Steve kissed his forehead before tussling his hair and pulling away. "You're trouble."

Peter's smile dimmed a little at the truth behind the words, but then Steve bent over to pick up the food and took his hand. "So where are we eating? Or are we having our first romantic date on the elevator floor?"

"As lovely as that sounds, I'd prefer Tony's lab, if that's okay."

Steve tilted his head, but pressed the button on the screen anyway. "Any particular reason?"

"Tony said I could help Bruce with the coma stuff. I heard you helped with that," Peter answered proddingly.

"Maybe," Steve smiled. "You sure you don't want to eat first and work later, though? Twenty minutes won't make much of a difference."

"Nah. I can work and eat."

Steve sighed dramatically, but it wasn't out of exasperation. He had to believe that this was a good thing. "Fine. You're taking a break every few hours though."

"Deal."

******

Tony was working diligently as could be managed with a busted hand on retrieving the audio files from whatever Hydra managed to do with them. His computer sat on the food tray in front of him, wires connecting from it to Sam's headpiece, and there were multiple casing pieces resting at the foot of his bed. From what Tony could tell, there was no physical damage but there was obviously some kind of tampering. At this point Tony was going to have to search bit my bit until he found whatever had corrupted the files.

Bruce offered to help several times but Tony worked with Bruce enough times to know that would just move Tony's frustrations from himself to Bruce and nobody would benefit from that. Besides, Bruce needed to work on fixing Nat and Sam.

There was a slight knock and Pepper peered inside. "You decent?"

"Never," he answered immediately.

Pepper gave him an amused look. "Let me rephrase. Mind if we come in?"

"Of course not," Tony chirped. "With you guys saving my ass I can't exactly say no, can I?"

Pepper smiled, but it didn't quiet reach her worry filled eyes. "You look awful."

Rhodey nodded. "Like shit. They at least giving you the good stuff?"

Tony held up his medication button. "Intravenously, baby."

Rhodey snorted as they both took seats beside him. Pepper leaned forward and went to take his hand, but it was casted, so she rested it on his arm instead. She sighed, shaking her head. "I thought when we decided to stay friends I would stop having to worry about you."

"Afraid not. It just gave you someone to worry about me with," Tony replied. Rhodey gave him an assuring nod. Tony could always count on them to take care of each other, no matter what happened to him. It was something they talked about early on in their relationship. Rhodey wasn't quite ready to be done being War Machine, but he wouldn't mind stepping down if that was what needed to be done. Pepper managed SI well enough on her own now, but he needed to be sure everything would be fine, just in case.

"How are you holding up? I know this must be hard on you," Pepper said, frowning at Natasha's still frame.

Tony shrugged. There was nothing he could do about that now except put his faith in Bruce to do what he did best. "I'm okay. I'm just doing what I can."

Pepper nodded. "We just wanted to come tell you we were about to leave again. It shouldn't take more than a few hours to debrief, but we will probably stay the night since it's so late already."

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know," Tony said. "I'm sure I'll be busy anyway. Or being forced to sleep, if Cho has her way."

"Not the worst idea," Pepper said with an undercurrent of persuasion. "You did just have a major accident."

"I'll sleep when I crash. Pun intended."

They both rolled their eyes at Tony's typical joke-away-the-trauma antics.

"Call if you need anything. We won't be too far."

"Alright, thanks. You're doing what I need you to do already," Tony said. "Tell Ross hi for me."

Rhodey pursed his lips and after a moment he stood up, peeking out to make sure nobody was around before getting sitting close to Tony again, resting his elbows on his knees. "We wanted to ask you something else before we go."

"What is it?"

Rhodey frowned, unsure how to say what he needed to say. "I know that you were wanting to wait, but we were thinking maybe now was a good time to make the move."

Tony quirked his head. "It isn't even finished yet. Besides, I just put Peter's gym together."

"I'm not saying you couldn't come back," Rhodey said, placatingly. "I'm just saying, living in the middle of Manhattan with Hydra knowing exactly where you are isn't the safest for anyone. They're using civilians against you, man. They've already gotten two of us. Any advantage we can use at this point we should take."

Tony frowned. The Compound was an idea Tony had been playing with for years. A home fit for superheroes, no matter what their abilities. He put a lot of thought and consideration into the design of every floor and every room, down to the very last detail. There was an entire MedWing, a cafeteria, two labs, a floor dedicated to training, and plenty of land for anything they could ever desire. They could even build recreational stuff, if they wanted. It would be amazing.

For a long time he thought it would never be anything but an idea, but before Civil War, he decided to have pay a private company to start building it. Even after, when he knew that the Avengers were no longer a cohesive unit, he allowed the construction to continue out of the hope that maybe the next generation of heroes could make use of it. The only people who knew about it were Pepper and Rhodey for multiple reasons, including that Tony wanted it to be a surprise, but the most prominent was because if anything happened, he wanted there to be one place nobody would be able to find them if they ever needed it. It was as much a safe house as a potential home.

What Sam was saying made sense. If Hydra decided to attack the Tower, a lot of people could get hurt. There was traffic and buildings all the way around them. He didn't want to be responsible for a single death if he could help it.

After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'll think about it then talk to the team."

Rhodey nodded. "Okay. I guess we should head out. We will get this figured out. Just focus on getting better, alright?"

Tony nodded, and waited until they left to pick up the headset again. He fiddled with it for a few minutes before giving in to his distracted brain and laying down, turning his head to look at Natasha.

"You won't even get to see your room," Tony lamented quietly. "First room in the coolest, most innovated building in the world you're going to see is the stupid MedWing." Tony snorted at the unfairness of it all. "You're going to love it, though. I promise. You've just got to wake up first."

Natasha didn't stir, and Tony heaved a sigh, picking up the headset before leveling her with The Look. "You're never allowed to get hurt again, I hope you know that. I'm going to make you wear bubble wrap if that's what it takes."

Tony pulled over the laptop, pulling up the window he was using, then paused, a large smile creeping on his face. "How pissed would you be if I made you a suit?"

*******

Steve was not doing great. It had been a few hours, but he was only on the eighth page of the book Peter handed him when they first came up. He was taking notes as he went, trying to keep everything straight in his mind, but even that could only help so much. His eyes narrowed at the offending words in front of him, wishing that they would rearrange themselves into something simpler. Steve was good at a lot of things, battle tactics, combat, quick learning and adaptation, but picking up a book that he had no basic understanding of and trying to understand it was like reading how to build a spaceship in the 20's, without knowing what it did or even seeing one. He shut the book and looked to Peter, who was staring equally intensely at his laptop, clicking the arrow keys diligently as he read the screen.

"Peter?"

"Huh? What?" Peter swiveled around in his chair. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering if you wanted to go down and see Tony for a little bit," Steve said, trying not to seem too eager to escape.

Peter looked to his computer, then down at the time, stretching his limbs above his head. 6:30 PM. Steve let them go on longer than he expected. "Yeah, I'm at a good stopping point. You?"

Steve rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I don't really understand what I'm reading, so yes. Probably."

Peter suddenly felt a mix of stupidity and guilt. What was he thinking, giving Steve an advance scientific theory book when the guy only learned how to work a smart phone two years ago? "Shit. Yeah, no. That's my bad. I wasn't thinking. Sorry."

"No, it's fine, I wanted to help, but maybe not with this," Steve said, glaring at the book.

"We can find something when we get back," Peter said, laughing at his expression.

The two quickly put their things away, and when they went down, everyone was already there, looking a little impatient as they stood talking quietly in a circle.

"What's going on?" Steve asked.

"Tony kicked us out," Loki said, frowning. "He seems to think we are hovering."

"Yeah, he doesn't like that," Peter said matter-of-factly. "Why are you hovering?"

"He's almost finished with the headset," Clint answered. "He said it should be finished soon."

"Already?" Peter asked. "That was fast."

"Apparently Hydra isn't as smart as they think they are," Loki mused.

"How long have you been out here?" Steve asked.

"Not long. Maybe an hour," Thor answered.

"Did you need Tony for something?" Bruce asked.

"Just taking a much needed break," Steve said, elbowing Peter playfully.

"Yeah. Oh, and I looked over the files you sent me made a list of possible additives we can test for with the coma medications that we can test for," Peter said to Bruce. "I've checked most of them, and I'm not sure any of them would fit this type of long-term dosing, but it put me on track for a new angle. I'll go ahead and send over what I have and tell you if what I'm thinking pans out."

"What are you considering?"

Peter opened his mouth, and blanked. He should have considered that Bruce would ask him that, but he didn't, and now he didn't know how to answer that without it being blatantly obvious that he'd been working on the serum. Bruce's notes were what gave him the idea in the first place.

Bruce had written that the serum was spliced with something that allowed the compound to move with direction like a virus, despite either of them being living. They changed and morphed depending on their environment because something they added allowed it to. If the serum was essentially just modified chemicals, it wasn't much of a stretch to think they could have spliced in a component that would make the medication continue to have effect over time.

"Don't stress, Peter," Loki said, pointedly holding his gaze. "Nobody will judge you if you are wrong. If you aren't ready to say, though, we won't pry. Right dear?"

Bruce looked to him confused. "No, of course not. If you want to wait it won't be a problem."

Peter composed himself well enough to pull off embarrassed. "It's not really a concrete theory yet."

Steve put his hand on Peter's lower back. "You two will figure it out, I'm sure."

Peter forced a smile. Thank Norse Gods for Loki.

Clint's phone started ringing, and he cursed. "I swear to god if you guys listen to the headset without me, I'll kill you."

"Noted," Bruce said. "We will wait."

"We will?" Thor asked, innocently. "I think we should just listen and give him a vague explanation after."

Clint pointed his phone at him, still ringing in his hand. "Better not."

Thor just smiled aggravatingly. Clint growled, then answered the phone, walking to the bar.

"This is better than fighting him, I think," Thor said, giddily.

Bruce looked at his watch, then sighed. "I think I might just head to my lab and transfer everything for now. I hate just standing around."

"Should someone go check on him?" Steve asked.

"No. Maybe we should just take this time to relax a bit," Loki said to Bruce. "You still haven't even slept."

Bruce hesitated and Loki pressed further. "I'm sure Stark will tell us when he is finished."

Just when Loki was sure Bruce was going to cave, JARVIS came over the speakers. "Sir is ready now. He also wanted me to relay that if you touch anything, you will be banned for the foreseeable future."

Loki sighed. "Very well. After this, you are sleeping. Agreed?"

Bruce lifted Loki's hand to kiss it and nodded. "Agreed."

Clint let out a victorious laugh and caught up to them just as they reached the doors. "I made it!"

Tony looked exhausted, but determined as he watched everyone pile in. There weren't enough chairs for everyone, so Steve and Peter stood by the doors, Clint leaning on the wall between Tony and Natasha, and Bruce and Loki took the chairs.

"I'm assuming you fixed it?" Bruce asked.

Tony nodded. "Hopefully it'll actually help. Ready?"

Everyone nodded.

The speakers crackled to life, and for the first few seconds it was mostly chaotic noise. Tony must’ve listened up until the point of the actual fight. Everyone’s anticipation grew as the familiar conversations were played back, and Peter shrunk away when he heard his own mistakes being played through all over again.

_”I’ll be right back. In and out in a second, I promise!”_

_“What? What are you doing?”_ The audio distorts Steve’s voice a little from the whooshing of air. Steve stared at the ground, his arms crossed, and it only made Peter feel worse.

 _”There’re people inside and can’t just leave them. I’ll be fast. Won’t even know I’m gone.”_ So stupid.

 _”Who’s idea was it to bring the kid again?”_ Sam asked.

 _”In all fairness, I now understand your hesitation,”_ Clint said.

There was more fighting, and Peter ran his hands through his hair. Maybe he shouldn’t have listened. He should have just waited for someone to tell him. This was...not great.

_"I'm moving to the main hall."_

_”This was not part of the plan,"_ Steve growled, then there was a loud thumping sound.

 _”Too late now, Cap,"_ Sam said.

_”Just hurry up. They're moving fast." Bucky._

_”Got it."_

A minute later, Peter’s voice crackled loudly. _“There are three people. I can-I’ll need-“_

The background noise was growing more insistent, heavy breathing mixing in with various punches and movement.

_“What was that last part?"Steve asked. "You're cutting out."_

There was nothing but loud crackling in answer.

_"Can you guys hear Peter?"_

_"I've got nothing. All static,"_ Bucky said.

 _"We lost him,"_ Clint said. _"Damn it."_

 _“I'll go get him. You guys just keep these guys off our backs,"_ Sam said.

 _“But I-"_ Steve started to argue.

 _"We really need you up here, Cap,"_ Clint interrupted. _We can handle it, Sam. Just-"_

_"Hurry. I know."_

Peter could hear his breaths coming faster, but he couldn't make himself calm down. Steve wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

 _"See anything?"_ Steve asked.

 _“Not yet. Almost to the Event Hall."_ There was a pause. _"I see him. He's okay,"_ Sam assured them.

They listened to Sam's footsteps until they stopped suddenly, and they could hear faint voices in the background. Peter leaned closer.

"Can you isolate the voices? Make them louder?" Bruce suggested.

Tony nodded gravely. They all waited, antsy and impatient, then he backed up the reel a little.

_"You know what the problem is."_

Peter frowned in confusion. That was _his_ voice. When he looked up, everyone else looked just as confused.

_"Fine then. Use your brain. Who's the biggest threat to the mission?"_

Who the hell was that? He never heard that voice before in his life, much less talked to whoever it was. Peter could feel everyone staring at him, but he just gaped at the headpiece, astounded.

_"I don't know. Steve?"_

Peter's eyes shot up to Steve's and his eyes were full of hurt and confusion. Peter shook his head. "No, I don't-"

"Shhh," Tony said, holding up a finger.

_"Okay then. Separate them."_

_"What?"_

_"Separate them. Make it a nonissue. What don't you understand?"_

Peter scoffed. _"How am I supposed to come between them? Bucky loves him too. There's no way."_

_"Figure it out. Use your relationship somehow. The leader wants Bucky back at any cost. You know what that means."_

_"Yeah. It can only end one of two ways and I won't get captured. I'd sooner drink bleach."_

Peter looked to Steve pleadingly. Surely Steve didn’t believe any of this. Peter gently touched his arm, silently begging Steve to look at him, but Steve was too lost in his thoughts to notice.

”That isn’t me,” Peter said. “You guys know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

Tony quickly paused the video. "We can talk about this after."

"No. They’re screwing with our heads. I didn't say any of that! I don’t know how they did it, but that is not my voice.”

Tony's brows furrowed, considering, his fingers tapping on the laptop.

"Play the rest," Bucky demanded, his face stony. Tony stared at him for a moment, unsure, then Clint walked over to stand by Bucky in solidarity. Tony nodded.

"After," he said to Peter as he pressed play. Peter fidgeted, the room seeming to close in on him. They would believe him. They had to.

_"I'm not worried about that. Just make sure you don't get too caught up in the ruse. We wouldn't want our favorite little spider to change sides."_

_"Nothing will change, no matter what. No feelings are reciprocated. You know that."_

Peter grimaced.

 _"Keep it that way."_ There was a loud shuffling noise, presumably from Sam. _”What was that?"_

Peter listened. _”Sam."_

_”Deal with it."_

Sam must've backed up a few steps, and there was a sharp gasp before the com clattered against the hard tile. There was a few more seconds of loud fumbling, then the com went dead.

"I don't even know who that is," Peter swore into the lingering silence, unable to give them time to process what they’d heard. "I know this looks bad but-"

"Stop," Tony said, sternly. "Just-stop."

Peter swallowed heavily.

"Loki and Thor take Peter to his room and sit with him until the rest of us talk this out," Tony ordered.

"You're not even going to hear what I have to say?" Peter asked, incredulously.

"Yes. We will, but first we have to talk, and figure out how we are going to deal with this. I'm not the only one in the room, Peter," Tony said, an angry tinge in his voice. "I trust you, but you have to trust me. Okay?"

Loki stood, gently nudging Peter toward the door. Peter spared one last look at a lost-looking Steve before he was forced to leave them, knowing that Hydra did far more damage than any of them could have dreamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys! We are getting so close! Please show some love by commenting or subscribing so I can keep my motivation to write up. I love hearing from you guys, and thank you for sticking around this far!


	18. I Should’ve Expected That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After hearing Peter’s voice in the comms, the group debates how to handle the situation, leading to a lot of ranging emotions. 
> 
> Heart to hearts. Some getting ripped out. You know the drill, by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were here early for last chapter, I’m sorry, but I made a slight change to the ending about Peter’s reaction and line of thinking. You’ll know it when you see it. If not and you have any questions feel free to ask me in the comments. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: mental health issues(such as voices, paranoia, anxiety, brain washing), canon-typical fighting. 
> 
> SPOILER ALERT FOR THE MOVIE SWEENEY TODD.

Everyone sat quietly as Bruce unhooked Tony from his various machines, and they followed without protest as he limped into the Greeting Parlor, apparently not up to moving any further. By the time he sat down, his forehead was beaded with sweat, and he was working to pump the lingering cold from his hand from the IV.

"So what do we do?" Tony finally asked, panting. "We can't leave them waiting forever."

Steve dropped his chin, his shoulders hunched, and shook his head dejectedly, his eyes staring blankly at the floor. Just the slight possibility that any of what he heard could be true had him questioning everything. That was the worst part of all. Reanalyzing everything Peter did, every touch, every sleep-addled confession of adoration, the echoes of Peter's laugh making his whole body ache. He knew Peter, he felt it in every fiber of his being that he did, but he was still disoriented by the torrential current of conflict in his mind.

"I don't know," Steve admitted lowly. "I don't want to believe it."

"I don't," Tony said, confidently, but his face was hard, fighting back the doubt in his own mind. "Hydra has managed a lot more complex things than voice modulators. I just need to know what we do until I can prove it."

Bucky remained silent. He wasn't wholly convinced that it was Peter on the recording either, but for a totally different reason. Bucky spent countless nights lying awake in fear of Hydra coming back for him since the day he stepped foot out of Wakanda, but for them to send Peter to get him back? That he highly doubted. The kid barely had any training. Not only that, but he was constantly trying to fit in with the group, not finding ways to tear them apart. If they had come up with any other story, he may have believed it. Recon. Sabotage. Even an assassination attempt. But bringing Bucky in? He doubted that.

"It wouldn't hurt to question him," Clint said, eerily serious. He sighed, shaking his head at his hands. "We can put him in interrogation for a few days. I'm not as good as Natasha, but I can do it. If there's anything to know, I can find it."

"Interrogation?" Steve demanded, incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"What do you expect us to do? Look around, Steve." Clint waved to the MedBay doors. "You think I want Peter to be some double agent? I don't, man, but we are three people down right now."

"Two," Tony interjected.

"I don't want to add anyone else to that list because we let our emotions get in the way," Clint continued, pointedly.

"I understand that," Steve snapped back dryly, his face hot. "-but we didn't even give him a chance to defend himself. Like Tony said, they could have altered his voice with that-that voice modulator."

Bruce rubbed his hands down his face. He knew something like this would eventually happen. Not that he truly thought Peter was capable of hurting any one of them, but the secrets Bruce and Tony were piling dangerously high, and if they didn't come clean now, it would only cause more damage later.

"I agree with Clint," Bruce said. "Interrogation will give him a change to explain where he fits into everything. It doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. I think it's time that we all learn more about him."

Steve gave him a confused look. "What more do your need to know?"

Bruce frowned, biting the inside of his cheek. "There are a few things that don't add up. Some to do with the serum, and some that come way before that."

Tony's eyes shot up, and he shook his head emphatically, pleading with Bruce with worry-filled eyes. Bruce avoided looking at him.

"What do you mean?" Clint asked. "What things?"

"Me and Tony found some information in the Oscorp files," Bruce started, a pained look on his face. "We didn't want to say anything until we knew more, but-"

"It's not his fault," Tony barked out, then his voice changed, sounding hurt by Bruce's sudden change of heart. "Why are you doing this?"

Bruce had the audacity to look apologetic, like he hadn't just done this by his own accord. Trusting him to keep quiet was a mistake. This was why Tony didn't tell people anything. With enough pressure, anyone will crack. Even his best friends.

"What is it? Whatever it is, it'll be fine. We will figure it out," Steve assured him. Tony's jaw tensed stubbornly and Steve sighed. "Hiding things isn't doing anyone any favors. The more we know, the easier it will be to help him."

Tony scoffed, hellfire in his eyes, and Steve knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth. "You don't get to preach to me about full disclosure, Rogers."

Steve swallowed. Tony had a point, but Steve couldn't back down every time he was reminded of what he did. Not when there were bigger things to worry about right now. Tony may never really forgive him, but he couldn't risk the lives of everyone else out of guilt. He was their leader. They looked to him, and he couldn't make the same mistake twice.

"I was wrong. I know that now. I know the damage I caused and I'm truly sorry. If I could take it back I would, but we need to know everything."

Tony looked away, shaking his head slightly, but bit his tongue. It was too late to take back now. They would never back down now that Bruce dangled the information in front of them.

"What is it?" Bucky echoed.

"The serum-it was made from Peter's DNA," Bruce admitted, the words sounding forced from his throat. "It's part of the reason it reacts to his body differently. I only found out recently, but I'm sure of it. I've done every test multiple times."

"That's what the drink was for," Clint guessed.

Bruce nodded.

"Drink?" Steve asked.

"I gave him honeymeade laced with an agent that would target a like substance," Bruce explained. "If it hadn't worked, Peter wouldn't have been able to get drunk the night of the party."

"But it did," Bucky finished.

Tony looked away from the group, wishing now more than ever that Natasha was awake: He liked to think that she would be on his side, but he couldn't be sure. Not when he hadn't told her what was going on.

"They could've taken his blood to make it, though, right? They had some of his medical records," Steve said.

"They could have," Bruce agreed. "We think it was Peter's parents that started the splicing program. If that's true, then it would explain how they were able to obtain his school and medical records. It wouldn't be hard for them to ascertain blood samples, especially if they did tests on Peter."

"He's directly linked to Hydra, and you're just telling us this now?" Clint asked in disbelief.

"Like I said, they worked for Oscorp, but there's no proof they worked for Hydra. For all we know, Hydra could have tried to recruit them, and killed them when they didn't comply," Bruce said.

Peter's parents...

He didn't talk much about them. He made little comments about Ben and May now and again, but never them. Steve didn't think it was for a lack of love, though. Despite him being really close with his Aunt and Uncle, Steve thought that his parents being gone was maybe a bit too hard for him to talk about. Losing people that you love so young was hard in a different way than other types of loss. It's like you have all of the emptiness, with none of the comfort of memories to lean on.

God. What was Peter going to think when he found out? He would be devastated. It was bad enough that they died, but knowing they could have been murdered by Hydra was horrible. It seemed Peter and Tony had more in common than they originally thought.

"Is there anything else?" Steve asked.

Bruce hesitated, looking to Tony, but he was scowling at the empty space beside him. "Hydra may have planned Peter's transformation."

Steve ground his teeth. Of course they did. They could never resist their temptation for super soldiers. How he hadn't thought of that sooner baffled him.

"This would have been nice to know," Clint said heatedly.

"Why? So you could shut him out even more than you do already?" Tony asked, sharply.

"No, so we could be cautious," Clint argued. "Maybe if you hadn't lied, we could have kept a better eye on him."

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Steve said, feeling the discussion starting to devolve. "We can't be sure of anything right now."

"What do we do then?" Clint asked. "Wait around until Hydra makes another move?"

"No," Steve said, forcing his voice to remain calm. "We are going to put him in interrogation, like Bruce suggested. We can see what he knows and go from there."

Tony scoffed dismissively. "This is ridiculous."

Clint frowned at him, not understanding where all the hostility toward them was coming from. "I don't want to believe Peter did anything either but we have to consider the possibility that-"

"No," he countered forcefully, pointing his finger at Clint. “ _I_ don’t have to consider anything. _I_ know Peter, and I know he didn't turn on us. If you would get your big feathery head out of your ass, you would know that too."

"I'm just saying that-"

"I know what you're saying, and you're wrong."

"He was the last one with Sam, Tony. He was on the audio feed and now we know that his parents are the whole reason we have to worry about the serum in the first place. What else are we supposed to take from that?" Bucky asked, trying to be sensible. "I know you love the kid but it's hard to deny what's right in front of us."

Tony slammed his hand against the table. "Enough! If you want to question Peter, fine. Be my guest. But you are not treating him like some criminal based off of something he had no control over."

"You need to calm down, Tony," Steve warned. His heart was aching right alongside Tony's but getting angry wouldn't solve anything.

Calm down. _Calm down?_ Tony reared on Steve, hatred rolling off of him in waves.

"Or what? You going to shove your overgrown frisbee into my chest? Maybe beat me senseless?" Tony challenged, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotion, stepping up to Steve, his presence towering despite Steve having several inches on him. "Word of advice, then. Next time, stick around to finish the job. It'll save you any future trouble."

"Hey!" Clint snapped. "That's enough. We have enough going on without rehashing this all over again."

"Always quick to come to his aid, aren't you, Barton?" Tony scathed. "How well did that work for you last time?"

Steve managed to keep his steeled expression, but only barely, drawing himself up taller to combat the sudden feeling of smallness. His voice was low, hoping Tony could hear the sincerity in every word. "I care about Peter, too. More than you know."

Tony gritted his teeth, the hurt and anger sizzling out against his will, and gripped the bottle of whiskey hidden under the bar like a life line. He leveled Steve with a look that he'd seen months before, while snow fell lightly on Tony's bruised and bleeding skin. Disappointment. Somehow, that was even worse than the anger, and when Tony spoke again, his voice was more broken than Tony ever wanted any of them to hear. "Got a funny way of showing it, Cap."

****

Peter's room was quiet. Neither Loki or Thor seemed in the mood to talk, but to be fair, neither did he. He never would have imagined there could be a universe where the Avengers thought he could be working against them, but here he was. He may have originally come to the Tower to find his aunt, but so much more had happened since then. Some of it wasn't great, but in spite of it all, Peter was happy. The Avengers somehow made the gaping hole where his family should be seem less unbearable. They helped fill in the gaps.

Thor and Loki stood posted at his door, looking more like bodyguards than friends. He watched them from where he was curled up on his bed, wondering what was going through their heads, especially Loki. Was he regretting helping Peter now? The thought hurt more than he expected it to. Neither of the gods had been there long, but Loki was his friend.

Peter understood why they were so intent on keeping their distance, though. If he heard the tape, he would probably believe it, too. Still, he kept waiting, or rather hoping, that someone would crack. For Thor and Loki to ask questions, or voice their own thoughts. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"The meeting is over," JARVIS informed them. Peter sat up, his heartbeat spiking. "Captain Rogers has requested you to take Peter down to interrogation, for the time being. They will meet you down there momentarily."

Peter sighed through his nose, deflating, but stood from his spot on the bed. Thor met his step, instantly blocking his path and Peter's eyes widened freezing in his spot. Thor then seemed to realize what Peter was doing and backed up apologetically.

Peter held out his hand, looking downtrodden. "After you."

Loki gave him a small nod and the brothers walked him to the elevator. The ride down was longer than he thought was possible, but as soon as the door opened, he realized why. The room was spacious, a few chairs and a table stretching across the middle of the room, looking straight into a wall of two way glass. Other than that, there were absolutely no windows, no other ways out but the one door, which contrasted heavily to the many windows of the other floors. His spider-senses felt fine-tuned, as if in anticipation, and Peter figured it must be because they could sense they were underground. It was oppressive and unsettling to say the least, like claustrophobia.

Thor took over, gently pressing his hand against Peter's back to lead him to the door of the interrogation room, as Loki hung back, looking on disapprovingly. Peter wasn't sure what of, though, the tape or that he was now under scrutiny. Regardless, he didn't like the expression.

Thor typed in a code at the door, and a thick, heavy lock clicked open. Beep, click. Peter stepped inside the overly dark room and Thor gave him a parting half-hearted smile before shutting the door behind him. Beep, click.

Without anything else to do, Peter took a seat at the small table. He looked around, but there wasn't much to see. Just four walls, two chairs, and the one-way mirror. There was the usual glimmer of a camera shining in the corner of the room, so small most people would have missed it, but Peter wasn't most people.

The trapped feeling from before was progressively getting worse as time pushed forward. His eyes kept catching his reflection in the glass and he wasn't sure why, but something about it made him uncomfortable. He hadn't ever been confident in his body, but he was much more comfortable with it since the bite, so he knew that his usual brand of self-consciousness wasn't the cause of his unease. After the third time of locking eyes with himself, he scowled, and avoided lifting his head altogether, choosing to pick at his fingers instead.

Peter kept expecting for someone to come through the doors, but what Peter could only presume was about two or so hours passed, and still no one came. Peter wondered what they were saying, what _Steve_ was saying, and the fact that he couldn't even guess made him bite anxiously at his bottom lip. Surely Steve knew how much he cared about him. He would see that Peter would never hurt them. And if he didn't...maybe Tony would. Tony had stood by him this long. He always seemed to see things that the others didn't.

Peter instinctively reached for his phone (again), but remembered he left it in the lab. He longed to hear from Ned and MJ, or honestly anyone on his side, at this point.

He clenched his fists on the table and relaxed them a few times, exhaling a long breath. His anxiety was racketing higher, and he would admit that for the first time since being at the Tower, he really was scared of what they might do or say to him when they did come.

After an hour passed, Peter was starting to panic. This was pretty typical for an interrogation. Right? They usually kept the unsub waiting in anticipation so that they would be easier to crack. The problem was, he couldn't crack. There was no big secret about his alliances, or thrilling backstory that lead to his betrayal. He was who he said he was, and that was all.

How long would they wait? The thought of being left alone with his thoughts for too much longer was concerning to say the least. They weren't exactly good company at the moment.

He supposed he should be thinking over some kind of explanation, but he didn't have one to give. He had no idea how they replicated his voice. They could check with the ambulance that was on the scene, and the EMT's could tell the Avengers that they saw him with the incapacitated mutate, but he wasn't sure that would be enough to convince them. Hydra had sources everywhere. It wouldn't be hard for them to pay off a random EMT to back his story.

The only thing he could think of that would help would be to tell them the truth, the whole truth, and hope that they believed him. If he admitted everything he was trying to do, maybe they would understand.

Peter felt his heart begin to thrum too loudly in his chest and there was a weird pressure in his ears that made the hum of the ventilation sound muted. He only had a moment to wonder what caused the sudden change before his head snapped forward, his hands colliding with his temples to stave off the sudden attack behind his skull.

_Don't Answer Anything._

Striking agony lit up in his brain, seeming to fry it from the inside. It bubbled and burst over and over in tortuous spurts, like giant, gaping blisters, leaving the tissue remaining open and raw.

He screamed.

_Keep Quiet._

The words thrummed with power, daring him to rebel. Peter dug and pulled at his hair, the distraction from the slight pain only a temporary respite, before a shock down his spine sent his arms shooting back to his side, his muscles rippling and hardening under his skin.

_Do Not Talk._

Peter gasped, a harsh rasping sound. _I won't,_ he pleaded, but the fire continued.

There was a loud series of knocks, a slit opening up in the door. "Peter? What's happening?"

Peter couldn't even grasp onto who was saying the words, logic and memory not a luxury he could focus on. He was a second away from slamming his head into the table just to feel anything else, but as quickly as it had come, the pain was gone and fell limply back into his seat, pressing his searing cheek against the cold table. The words, however, continued to squirm around, his ears filled with the disorienting aftermath of high-pitched ringing.

_Do Not Talk. Keep Quiet. Don't Answer Anything._

Peter was shaking viciously, terrified that even the smallest movement would bring back the pain. His vision swam and narrowed, like he stepped straight off of a merry-go-round, hot sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

"Peter?"

Steve. That was Steve. And he sounded scared. Why? That didn't make any sense.

_Do Not Talk. Keep Quiet. Don't Answer Anything._

Steve was probably scared of him. That made sense. They think he's Hydra.

"Peter! Are you okay?"

Peter's head lifted but his jaw clicked shut before he could make himself answer. He knew he wanted to reassure Steve that he was okay(relatively), but he _shouldn't_. That thought only confused him more. He told Steve everything.

The words in his thoughts didn't feel like the others he'd been having all day, even if they were just as hostile. They were different. Foreign. Invaders. He knew without a doubt that they weren't his own. The more he started to doubt them, the more they seemed to ebb them away, no longer pulsing angrily, but still a distant whisper.

There was a series of beeps as Steve hurriedly tapped keypad, his own hands shaking. Steve darted inside, eyes scanning over every inch of Peter in search for the mysterious assailant. "What happened? What's going on?"

Peter's eyes were wide and bloodshot.

"I-" fear cut him off, and he hesitated, but nothing happened. No sharp pain or booming voices. He adjusted himself in his seat carefully. "I don't know."

Steve felt his heart squeeze painfully at the terror etched in his face. "It's okay. Just talk to me. What happened?"

Peter didn't answer, his eyes flitting around quickly. Was this a seizure? Steve took a step forward but Peter's hand shot out. "Don't! Stay over there."

"Queens." His name came out cracked. "It's going to be okay. Let me help you."

"Something's wrong," he whispered, frantically. "I think I'm going crazy. Just-just stay away. I don't want to hurt you."

Steve turned to the two way mirror, his concern evident in his face. "Somebody get in here!"

Peter was devolving quickly. Fear was turning to panic, and his shaking was now full blown quaking. Steve wanted to touch him, offer any kind of comfort he could, but he wasn't sure if that would make things better or worse.

"I wanted to tell you," Peter said, shakily. "I was thinking how I wanted to tell you guys everything, then-"

Steve tilted his head, working to keep his voice steady and calm. "Tell us what?"

Peter didn't hear him, pressing his palms against his eyes. "God. What if it was me? What if-what if I really did it?"

It should have been obvious. It was his voice. His words. His stutter. It was the only thing that made sense. Well, no. Nothing made sense. Not any of it. But he couldn't trust himself right now, not with the voices and figures and his own stupid reflection haunting him. He couldn't trust his own brain and that terrified him.

Steve sucked in a breath, but couldn't hold himself back, throwing his arms around Peter, holding him like he was afraid if he didn't, the Peter he knew would fall to pieces in front of him. Peter couldn't bring himself to lift his own arms, just resting his head against Steve's shoulder. The door opened and Bruce dug in his pocket for a flashlight.

"What's happening to him?" Steve asked, taking just enough steps back to give Bruce room to work.

Bruce's lips were in a thin line, giving Peter a quick once-over. "I'm not sure."

Bruce lifted the light and Peter jerked his head away.

"No, don't, please," he begged, knocking the flash light away. It hit the wall and broke into pieces.

"I need to make sure you're okay," Bruce said calmly. "I think you're having a break down."

"Why? Because I hurt Sam?" Peter challenged, his voice cracking. "That's what you're thinking, isn't it? I'm-I'm like them. Like Hydra."

"You didn't do this," Steve argued, fervently. "You couldn't have."

"You're wrong," Peter said. "I may not have known I was doing it, but it had to be me. How else did my voice get on the comms? How else did they take Sam out when a half dozen Hydra agents couldn't?"

Bruce took half a step back, but Steve could only move forward. His instincts were overriding everything else right now. _Help. Protect. Care._ He managed to stop just a few feet away.

Peter couldn't really believe that he did any of those things. Peter wasn't some evil mastermind who was reveling in his victory. He wasn't remorseful in the way that someone like he would be after hurting someone, either. He was hurting and angry. He was trying to blanket over his fears and anxieties, but why would he have to do that if he were certain?

"I spied on you," Peter continued, self-loathing tears brimming in his dark eyes. "I used Goggles to figure out everything you guys wouldn't tell me. I thought I was doing it because I wanted to help, but what if I was wrong? What if it wasn't even my idea? What if I thought I was helping, but all I was doing was getting information for Hydra?"

Steve hoped that the ache reeling inside him didn't show on his face before he managed to harden it. Steve wasn't sure what he would do if Peter were right, so he just had to believe he wasn't. He squared his shoulders, deep, soulful eyes boring holes into Peter.

"You're scared," Steve said, making his voice as gentle as possible. "None of this is your fault."

"No. You were right." He looked at the two way glass. "All of you were right not to trust me. I can't even trust myself."

And that was the issue wasn't it? Peter was stubborn. Not unlike Tony and himself. If Peter thought he was right, the only one who could convince him otherwise was himself.

"Then what?" Steve asked, only having to slightly feign hurt as he took a step back. "You were using me? Pretending to care about me so that you could get to Bucky?"

Peter's angry facade crumbled like clay, and he shook his head, looking slightly shocked by the question. "No! No. Of course not."

"But you did," Steve insisted. "If you think you hurt Sam, that you're working for Hydra, that means you think everything on that tape was true. So which is it?"

Peter was at a loss there. He knew he cared about Steve. He wanted Steve more than he ever wanted anything for so long. He dreamed about his smile, his laugh every night for months. He could still remember how badly he wished he could drown in the smell of Steve's hoodie the night Steve leant it to him after patrol. He imagined what it would be like to spend their life together, and when he finally got to feel Steve's lips against his, he realized no dream or figment of his imagination would have ever prepared him for that kind of bliss.

But Steve was right.

If he hurt Sam, than meant that everything that he felt since he arrived at the Tower was a lie. His feelings toward Tony and Natasha were intricately fabricated rouses. The acceptance and familial comfort was nothing more than a manipulation. The way he felt for Steve was fake, all in the name of helping Hydra. Peter winced. That-none of that-Peter believe at all. Not for one second.

"Which was it?" Steve repeated, drinking in the obvious conflict in his eyes like it was the best thing he'd ever seen.

Bruce touched Steve's shoulder lightly, worried what Steve or Peter might do if he got too close, but Steve didn't falter in his mission, kneeling down beside Peter. His hand trailed resolutely from Peter's shoulder, down his arm, making his hair raise and he shivered. Peter watched Steve, intense and more confused than he'd ever felt in his life, as Steve's hand reached his.

"Do you care about me?" Steve asked, his gaze unwavering as he pressed Peter's palm against his face. His hand was cold but Steve relished in the contact, a sweet solace from his heat flushed body. Peter swallowed heavily.

"Answer," Steve ordered. The commanding tone seemed to cut through, and Peter's eyes went slightly hazy, his pupils expanding. A fire lit in his stomach and he seemed to subconsciously be following Steve's breathing, their chests falling and rising in tandem. Steve could feel his heartbeat rise for another reason than fear.

"I do. I always have," Peter admitted breathily, sounding almost ashamed of the fact.

Steve turned his face into Peter's palm, kissing it softly then pressed it back against his slight stubble. Peter didn't hesitate to give in to his touch, and Steve wished they were alone so he could tell Peter just how much he loved that about him.

"Did you use me?"

Peter shook his head, moving his thumb softly against the small, prickly hairs, remembering the ghost of them nuzzling against his neck. "Of course not. Never." Doubt crept back in and Peter shook his head, clamping his eyes shut. "Not-not that I know of."

Steve drug Peter's hand down to his throat until it rested on his Adam's Apple, tightening his grip over Peter's hand until he winced. Peter could see the vein in his neck jutting out, and Steve swallowed hard, his voice rasping slightly.

"You could hurt me. Right now. One good squeeze, and you're strong enough to break my neck."

Peter's eyes widened in horror and he tried to pull away, but Steve's hand stayed firmly planted on top of his.

"Why are you doing this?" Peter whispered.

Steve gave him a small, sad smile and pulled his hand away to kiss at his knuckles.

"You are a lot of things, Queens, but evil isn't one of them. You're strong, intelligent and more than capable, but not in the ways you would have to be to hurt anyone," Steve reminded him. "You are the person who creates things. You are beauty and light and life. You wouldn't do this. I know you."

Hope twisted into his heart like a double-edged sword. He wanted what Steve said to be true but there were so many things telling him otherwise. It hurt to think he may be compromised, but what happened if they held on to hope and they were wrong? Steve would never see him the same way again. Wouldn't it be better to prepare him, push him away and save him from the inevitable heartbreak? It was hard to say. Pain now, or pain later. Then again, Steve sounded so certain that he was right.

Peter leaned forward, resting his forehead on Steve's.

"I'm so confused," he whispered hoarsely, gripping onto Steve's hand. "I don't even know what's real anymore."

"It's okay," Steve swore. "I'll know enough for the both of us."

Behind the glass, Bucky watched his best friend look at Peter with the same unbreakable determination that he had when he first found Bucky again. It was a sharp, intense look; one that dared anyone prove him wrong or step in his way. Steve was going to fight for Peter, no matter the consequences. There was no turning back now. All Bucky could do was support them and hope his dumb ass would be as lucky the second time around.

*******

Over the next few days, there were a lot of arguments and debates, some of them including Peter, but more of the them without, for obvious reasons. Bruce was thankful he didn't have to sit in on most of them since he was integral to waking the others from their coma, but that often meant he missed out on key information.

"He's been working on the serum?" Bruce asked, his eyes bugging out.

Tony wordlessly held out the sheet of paper Peter wrote all he'd learned on and Bruce searched his face with concern before scanning over it.

It was no secret that Tony had been discouraged by what he'd seen in the interrogation room. He'd mostly kept to himself, and unlike most of the others, he hadn't visited Peter on his own. Bruce wasn't the first to voice his concern about his sudden change in demeanor, but nobody had much luck in getting Tony to talk.

Tony didn't know why they cared about his opinion in the matter. It was obvious now that there was something wrong with Peter. He was brainwashed. That they were sure of, but to what extent? Everyone probably thought his sudden aloofness was because he no longer cared about Peter, or felt betrayed enough to want his distance, and he wasn't going to correct them despite that being as far from the truth as possible.

Tony sympathized with him. He could see the quiet desperation etched on his face when he had his episode. The problem was it was all too similar to the way Bucky looked, and Tony wasn't sure he could face that. He didn't want to see the parallels, didn't want to see Bucky as a manipulated tool the way he currently saw Peter. No matter what Peter may or may not have done, it wasn't _his_ Peter, and that made all the difference in the world to him.

If Peter and Bucky were the same, though, if he could forgive Peter, what did that make him for not extending the same curtesy of doubt to Bucky?

"He made a concealment device?" Bruce asked. "And it works?"

Tony nodded. "It's small too. Fits into his nifty little spider bot."

Bruce raised both brows. "Is that how he was able to spy on us?"

Tony snorted. "No. Apparently he only finished the device a week ago."

Well, that was still discouraging enough. "It took us months to build the normal size between the both of us. I don't understand how he managed it."

"Spare parts and spare time, apparently. Kid's brilliant."

_And now we know why,_ Bruce thought to himself. Sharing the sentiment would not be helpful to the situation in the least.

Tony pulled out a data card and handed it over. "This is his work on the serum. Steve said he wanted to get it to you."

Bruce studied the plastic casing. "Why didn't I get this sooner?"

Tony's cheek twitched. "I wanted to make sure there was nothing else on it, but it's clean."

Bruce nodded, then went to thank him, but his guilt returned when he found Tony walking away before he could even start. Bruce pursed his lips, conflicted.

"Tony!" Bruce called out.

Tony turned, but his face stayed impassive. Bruce wanted to say he was sorry, maybe explain why he felt he had to tell the team, but he knew that it wouldn't help. The damage was done, and Tony had so little trust in people as it was. This wasn't going to be fixed with something as simple and unreliable as words. Instead, Bruce swallowed.

"Uhm. How-how did Peter get past JARVIS?"

Tony's brows pulled together. "What do you mean?"

"To spy," Bruce said. "Don't you have protocols against things like that?"

Tony stared at Bruce for a long minute, then without another word, turned and walked out of the lab.

****

Steve and Peter laid silently on his makeshift bed on the floor of the interrogation room, staring up at the ceiling. It seemed that with all the nonsense and wold-shifting problems that were going on, this was the only room in the Tower that you could find quiet like this. Unfortunately for Steve, it was the only room that wanted to hear noise from.

It took a while for Peter to finally calm down that first day, but once he did, Steve managed to convince the others to let Peter at least have his laptop. He could only really use it for watching DVDs since he wasn't allowed access to internet, but those and the small pile of books on the table helped pass the time when he was alone.

When Steve wasn't there, the others were taking shifts to watch him. Some of them, namely Tony, Bruce, and Clint, opted to watch him from behind the glass. Steve was the only one that spent every shift inside the room, but all of the others had visited at least once. To Steve's surprise, the person who stayed with Peter the most besides himself was Bucky.

Steve ran his fingers through Peter's hair, behind his ear and down his neck, and Peter sighed, finally starting to relax a little. He settled in closer, burrowing into the blankets and Steve's warmth, looking adorably kin to a chipmunk. It didn't feel quite as effortless and soft as before, too many unresolved issues wedged tightly between them, but in Steve's eyes, it was a small but well-earned victory.

The first few times Steve came by, Peter insisted on Steve staying close to the door, with him in the far corner, but Steve was nothing if not persistent, and Peter eventually caved with the promise that JARVIS would notify someone if he started acting unusual. Even after, though, Peter had been pretty adamant about not getting too close. This was the first time Peter had allowed them to lay together at all.

"What did you watch today?" Steve finally asked, pulling Peter closer to him.

Peter hummed sleepily against his ribs. "Monster's Inc and Sweeney Todd." When Steve didn't comment, he seemingly read his mind and continued. "One's a kid movie and the other is a murder musical."

Steve snorted. "That's quite the combination."

"Which one? Murder Musical? Or that I watched a kids movie _and_ a murder musical?"

Steve smiled indulgently. "Both."

"Yeah. You're right. On both accounts."

Steve huffed.

"It was actually really sad, considering," Peter mused, nuzzling into Steve's chest. "I wasn't expecting that when I picked it from the pile."

"The cartoon?" Steve asked.

"No, the other one. Sweeney Todd. It's like..the bad guy-Benjamin Barker-just wanted to be happy with his family, you know? Then he lost them because of this Judge Turpin guy, and he turned to doing all of these horrible things to get revenge, but in the end, he either accidentally killed or scared away the very people he was fighting so hard to avenge. He killed his own wife. Almost everyone died, actually. Even if most of them deserved it, it was just-" he sighed. "It was just sad."

Steve listened quietly, still running his hands through Peter's hair as he considered Peter's words. He pressed a soft kiss to Peter's head. "Sometimes people get lost, but the important thing is not to stay lost."

Peter peered up at Steve through his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face. "I don't think you can come back from murder and forced cannibalism."

Steve startled, looking down at him with a thoroughly mortified expression. "What?"

Peter couldn't help the burst of laughter that shot to his lips. "He and his not-girlfriend killed people and made them into meat pies to sell to her customers. The song about it was pretty catchy though."

Steve collapsed back onto the pillow and shook his head, feeling more elated than he probably should at hearing Peter laugh at something so morbid. How could he even care when it was such a beautiful sound?

"You're a mess," Steve groused playfully. "Maybe we should stay away from whoever's pile _that_ was in."

"Didn't have much of a choice, honestly. I'm almost out," Peter pointed out. "I think I only have five or so left."

Steve frowned at the large stack of movies. It was probably more movies than he'd watched in a year. He made a mental note to ask someone for suggestions to buy more.

"So, Uhm. How-" Peter drew out the word, pursing his lips. Steve waited patiently. "How are Nat and Sam? Still the same?

Steve sighed and squeezed Peter's shoulder. That was a daily question, but Steve understood why he still asked. He wasn't the only one eager for good news. "Yeah. Bruce says he's getting closer though."

Peter expected that, but it didn't make it any easier to hear. His nightmares had only gotten worse since he'd been sleeping in the interrogation room, but he would be lying to himself if he believed that was the cause of them. Not when he could recall every moment of them.

Peter bit the inside of his cheek. He knew it wasn't logical, but he couldn't help thinking that things would get better if they would just wake up.

"I know, sweetheart," Steve assured him gently. "I miss them, too."

Peter wasn't sure why that was what made him suddenly cave into his need to kiss Steve, but one moment he was feeling the ever-present loneliness creeping back in, and the next they were chest to chest and he was pressing his lips to Steve's, soft and chaste, but still sweet enough to stave off the bitterness on his tongue. Steve didn't hesitate to reciprocate, a weight lifting off his own chest.

Peter pressed his face into the crook of Steve's neck, not hiding now, but just appreciating that he, out of everyone, was _there_. Despite all the uncertainty, and how anal-retentive he'd been the last few days, Steve never left him. He didn't complain or press him for answers he didn't have. He was just there, solid and unwavering. "I don't know what I'd do without you now."

Steve's heart caught in his throat, and he swallowed thickly. As much as he hated the pain laced in those heavy words, the truth was, Steve didn't know either, and he never wanted to find out.

Words he'd only dared think under the cover of night bubbled in his chest, suddenly eager to spill over, but he forced them down. Instead, he clung to Peter, and hoped that the right time to say them would come sooner rather than later. "I'm not going anywhere."

They laid there for a while before deciding to turn on a movie, and when they were back in bed and comfortable, the distance between them didn't feel quite as far. Peter insisted Steve watch Monster's Inc, but they only made it about half-way through when a loud knock preceded the tell-tale beeping at the door. Bucky pushed it open with his shoe, his arms full of books.

"Bruce needs you," Bucky explained, looking a little guilty at the interruption. "I tried to hold him off."

Steve sighed, but leaned up to pause the movie. "Alright, thanks Buck. I appreciate the thought, anyway."

Bucky shrugged one shoulder and put the books on the table. Steve pulled the blankets back and gave Peter a quick kiss, pressing their foreheads together.

"I'll be back later," he promised.

"Okay. Have fun," Peter said, forcing a smile and Steve rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure that's exactly what he has planned." Steve pulled himself up, smoothing the wrinkles in his shirt and turned to Bucky. "You staying?"

Bucky nodded. "For a bit."

"Okay. Great."

Bucky gave him an indulgent look that said, "don't worry. I've got him," and Steve nodded appreciatively. As unexpected as his now frequent presence was, Steve felt better leaving knowing that Bucky was there to watch over him.

Steve gave them one last parting wave and then he was gone.

Peter sat up, craning his neck to look at the pile on the table. "So you brought more? That's awesome. Thanks."

Bucky scoffed, tossing Peter an older one from the top. "Keep it up, swotter, and there won't be any left."

Peter's brows furrowed at the term.

Bucky didn't notice, too busy turning the chair so he could sit in it backward, resting his arms over the back. "So how'd you like "To Kill a Mockingbird?"

******

Tony spent the last 6 hours looking through footage.

Most of it was boring, almost unbearably so. So boring, in fact, it begged the question: if Peter had been doing all of these things, building the concealment device, creating an algorithm for the serum, and taking the time to go over footage of his own, why wasn't there any record of it?

Tony mulled over the question, only barely paying attention to the screen, but wasn't missing much. Just the same stuff he'd seen all day. Homework, projects or hanging around everyone else. Tony took a swig of his now luke-warm coffee and straightened in his chair.

"I need a new approach," he announced. "JARVIS, pull up Peter's concealment device notes and cross reference that with all footage of him collecting the items he listed."

JARVIS didn't respond.

Tony tilted his head in confusion, sitting up in his chair. "JARVIS?"

"Yes Sir?"

Tony blinked away the misunderstanding, and let out a breath. "I uhm, I need you to cross-reference the supplies on Peter's list for the concealment device and pull up any relevant footage."

JARVIS paused. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm not finding any footage that meets that criteria."

Tony's face hardened and he tossed the pen in his hand on the table. "Fine," he bit out. "Pull up any footage during the time that Peter was replaying information from Goggles."

There was another long pause. "My apologies sir, it seems-"

Tony didn't even wait around to listen, already out of his chair and headed to the elevator. Tony didn't even bother knocking before flinging the interrogation door open.

"You. Out," he demanded at Bucky, throwing his thumb over his shoulder.

Bucky raised a brow. Bucky had seen Tony angry. Or, hell, he thought he'd seen Tony angry. At the very least, he'd seen Tony ready to _kill_ , but it didn't hold a candle to what he saw now.

"We should call Steve," Bucky said hesitantly.

"Get. Out."

Bucky turned to glance at Peter and was met with wide, anxious eyes. Apparently he had no idea what this was about either.

Bucky cursed his bad fucking luck and his penchant for stupid kids that fight guys twice their size. Caught between a Stark and a hard place. "Look, Tony-"

Tony's arm was instantly covered in a gauntlet, and he grabbed Bucky by the shirt, lifting him and shoving him toward the door. Bucky raised his hands in surrender, and eyed Peter worriedly as he typed in the code.

"I'm getting Steve," he promised.

"You do that," Tony snarked, slamming the door behind him. Tony reared back to Peter on uneven feet, one hand clutching his bruised ribs.

"How did you do it?" he seethed.

Peter looked at him helplessly confused. "Do what?"

Tony tilted his head, like "you know what."

Peter didn't though and Tony rolled his eyes, annoyed that he had to spell it out. Peter was usually the one person he didn't have to do that with.

"How did you get past JARVIS?"

Peter shook his head of anxiousness, blinking past the randomness of the question. "I-uh-I just went around the protocols."

"You shouldn't even know the protocols. They aren't available to anyone but me and Capcicle," Tony argued.

That Peter didn't know. Sure, he hadn't expected to have high enough clearance for them at the time, but he hadn't really thought that much of it past that.

"JARVIS was the one who walked me through it. He said as long as I didn't go against specific instructions, Goggles would be allowed through. Ned and I programmed the..."

"Ned? The kid who hacked my system?" Tony interrupted, irritatedly.

"Well-I mean, yeah. But he was just helping me," Peter stuttered.

"That's funny, because this morning, Bruce asked me a question that I didn't understand. That bothered me. So I asked JARVIS to confirm a few things for me and guess what? Turns out, he won't let me access any video feed that involves anything that you've been working on. Want to tell me how that could be possible?" Tony asked.

Peter gaped at him blankly, not knowing how to respond to that. He didn't do that. Did he? No. No, he didn't mess with any of JARVIS' programming. "I'm not-I don't-"

"Because what it seems like to me, is that you and your friend overrode my billion dollar system. Again. Except this time, you didn't get caught because you had the added benefit of having direct access to my servers," Tony accused.

Peter shook his head hurriedly. "I didn't hack JARVIS at all. Your new system should have stopped anyone from being able to do that."

"New system? What are you talking about?" Tony asked, his fury bleeding to frustration.

Peter started to explain, but in that split second of hesitation, every question he'd been searching for an answer to clicked into place.

The flash drive. Why JARVIS was helped Peter, but was always hesitant in his phrasing. How Hydra was always one step ahead of them. How they created the comm audio. Ned and MJ not being in contact with him since the police questioned him.   
  


Everything made sense. Everything except for the headache. 

"Peter," Tony bit out.

Peter's head snapped up, but he couldn't find the words to say. His eyes flitted to the camera in the corner, unwittingly, and attempted to school his expression into something softer than the shock he knew was there now.

Tony scoffed, running a hand through his hair.

"You know, I believed in you," Tony said, holding Peter's gaze as he stepped forward. Peter stepped back, but couldn't make himself look away from the piercing intensity in his eyes. "Everyone else doubted you, but I was up there defending you to my last breath, evidence be damned."

Peter eyes were stinging.

"I didn't ask you for anything when I took you in. Money wasn't an issue. You had endless access to any of my tech. I would have given you anything you asked for, but you went behind my back to take the one thing you couldn't have."

"I didn't-"

"Zip it," Tony ordered. "I don't want to hear-"

"No," Peter barked back, his voice cracking with anger and embarrassment. Why didn't Tony believe him? "Why don't you ever listen to me? All of you push me aside like I'm-like I'm just some kid! If you would just listen-"

"The way you listen? Spying?" Tony scoffed. "Did you even think to ask me?"

Peter growled in frustration. "Like you would have told me if I did! And yes, actually. I did ask and you still kept secrets from me! Things I should have been able to know. It's not fair-"

"Life isn't fair, kid," Tony said. "You should know that better than anyone. That doesn't give you the right to-"

"To-to what? To find out about my own family?" Peter interjected. "Were you just going to hide that from me forever? Kid or not, they were my parents. I had a right to know."

A flash of hurt and something Peter didn't understand crossed Tony's face, but the beeping at the door interrupted whatever thought was going through his mind.   
  


"What's going on?" A stern-faced Steve demanded. Bucky hung back awkwardly like a shadow, watching with more than a little trepidation.

Peter wiped at his eyes angrily, more mad at himself for crying and the crappy situation than he was at Tony. At least now he was.

"Nothing," Peter said. "It's fine."

Tony avoided all the eyes on him and twisted his mouth to the side.

"I'll show myself out." He passed Steve and Bucky briskly, and it took extraordinary self-control for Peter not to call him back in there and explain everything right then.

"JARVIS wouldn't let me through to him," Bucky explained apologetically. "Had to go find him myself."

Peter sighed, waving him off. "It's fine. Having Steve here probably wouldn't have helped anyway."

"What was that exactly?" Steve asked. "Buck said he was scary mad."

"It just-" Peter exhaled sharply through his nose, pursing his lips. "It's complicated. Can I-can I just be alone for a bit? I have some things I need to think about if that's okay."

Steve's face softened, obvious concern still lining his edges, but he wrapped Peter in a hug, sighing. "Of course. Whatever you need. Well, someone will probably have to stay behind the glass, but..."

Peter shrugged. "It's fine. I just need some time to think."

"Okay. I'll get someone down here," Steve said, giving him a small smile. "Just let JARVIS know when you're ready. I'm almost finished with Bruce."

Peter nodded and watched the two leave, Bucky giving him a small nod before closing the door.

Peter ran his hands down his face, wearily. He had a lot of work to do.

******

The next day passed too slowly.

No matter what he tried to do to pass the time, he couldn't focus on anything enough for it to actually help. Steve took noticed, pointing out his sudden restlessness, not once, but twice. Peter rattled off some excuse about feeling cooped up, and since it wasn't exactly a lie, he didn't have to feel bad.

His plan was...mediocre at best. There were a lot of unknown variables and too many ways that it could make things more complicated, or even worse in his opinion, not work at all. It wasn't like he had a lot of options in the matter.

The fact that he planted the seed of guilt and anger toward Tony the day before made him the most obvious choice for executing his plan, but that didn't mean it was the easiest choice. He figured he was going to owe Tony a serious apology when everything was said and done.

By the time the clock finally hit six, Peter's stomach was in knots.

"JARVIS, is it Tony's turn in the rotation?"

"Yes. He is heading down now."

Peter had to forced himself not to pace, picking up the book he'd been reading earlier, and leaning against the table. He forced himself to wait another five minutes. Another ten. It was almost agonizing, but then he finally took one last steadying breath and put the book on the table face down. He stood, facing the two way mirror.

"Tony?" He reached.

He waited, but there was nothing.

"I didn't hack into your system," Peter tried again. "I don't know what's going on but-"

He stumbled back a step when the keypad beeped.

Tony was still wearing the same disheveled t-shirt from the night before, sporting a few more oil stains, and Peter knew instantly he hadn't slept. Why would he? Without him or Natasha or Rhodey or Pepper, who was keeping him from destroying himself?

Peter looked away. He wouldn't be able to do this if he looked at that face. It was one he didn’t want to see again. Just completely resigned. 

"I'm sorry for spying. I know sorry doesn't cut it, but I did what I thought I had to do to help, but I swearI had nothing to do with JARVIS."

Tony rubbed subconsciously at his chest.

"I can't trust you," he said, easily, shrugging it off like it was as easy as saying he didn't like shrimp. Like it didn't rip his heart in two. "I want to, but I can't."

Peter sighed heavily. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

Tony had just enough time to give him a questioning look before Peter shot up, lifting up his chair high over his head. Tony's eyes widened, and he crouched down just as Peter threw it with every ounce of his strength. The chair flew high above Tony's head and collided with the corner wall, shattering into splinters that shot out in every direction. Tony lifted his head in shock, but Peter was already on him.

Tony hissed in pain as he was shoved into the glass by his shoulders, probably a bit too roughly for a man recently in a car accident, and Peter covered his mouth tightly with one hand. Tony panicked, clawing and pushing at Peter with what little strength he could manage. Peter tried to shush him to no avail.

Then, in his desperation, Tony activated the Iron Man suit.

Fuck. How did he forget about the _Iron Man suit?_

In a split second, Peter was knocked backward by the force of Tony's flight repulser, leaving Tony scrambling to discern what the hell just happened. Despite the pain in his chest, Peter managed to land on his feet, and he didn't hesitate to jump forward again. This time Tony was ready for him, though, and he dodged to the right before Peter could grab him.

"Stop!" Tony shouted. "I don't want to hurt you."

Peter growled internally. He didn't want Tony to hurt him either. If only he had his web shooters.

"Just calm down a minute," Tony continued, seeing the pause on Peter's face. "It's not too late to fix this. I'm on your side, here, Pete."

That cut a lot deeper than it should, but he made that a "later" problem. He took a breath, weighing his options, and he slowly raised up his palms. Time to improvise.

"Okay. Okay," he said, thinking. "I'm just-I'm gunna sit on the floor by the desk," Peter said cautiously. "Keep your blasters on me if you need to. I just need five seconds."

Tony studied him, even more confused than he was before. "You kidding? I'm not pointing my blasters at you. Do you think I want to kill you?"

Peter huffed indignantly, dropping his arms. "Fine. Whatever. Just-"

Peter made a show of keeping his movements measured until he made it to his backpack. He grabbed a pencil and picked up his book from the table, scrawling down the words he was going to whisper to Tony before he broke free on the inside cover, then kicked it over to him.

Tony bent over to grab it, and read the words, looking slightly worried to where the camera was now broken beyond repair.

"Is it?" Peter asked. **Is that the only camera?** Tony looked to be calculating something, and Peter realized the reason behind his reluctant silence. "I'm not going to hurt you, Mr. Stark."

If he was wrong about there only being one camera, then that sentence in itself was enough to expose his rouse, but he couldn't stand thinking that Tony was scared of him, even for a moment.

Tony bit the inside of his cheek but ultimately nodded. "Yeah. It's the only one.

Peter sagged in relief. "Sorry. I just had to be sure."

"Of what?" Tony asked, rubbing at his sore shoulder. "That you could kill me in peace?

Peter frowned, obviously offended. "What? No. I just told you that-never mind. Just-we need to get everyone in here. Tell them that you need help restraining me or something. You disconnected your suit from the Tower system right?"

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. "How did you know that?"

"I didn't. I just hoped you had. I would have if I were you."

"No. Stop. Pause. Rewind," Tony said, emphatically, his hands dancing around. "I don't understand what is going on, so how about we sit down and you explain."

"Come on, Mr. Stark. I really don't want to have to say this twice."

Tony crossed his arms and Peter groaned internally. Tony really was just like a dad. "Fine. I know who hacked your system."

Tony licked his lips. Peter didn't look like he was lying, but then again, how could he tell? He hadn't been able to thus far. Tony crossed his arms. "Who?"

"We should wait for every-"

"Who?" Tony repeated.

Peter relented. Tony was really ruining his air of mystery, here.

"After the bombing, Ned gave me a flash drive for you. It was a program that was supposed to make your system even more secure than before. All you had to do was type in your new passwords, and the system would integrate with your current server."

"But you never gave me any flash drive," Tony pointed out.

"You're right, but I did give it to someone."

Tony looked at him expectantly. "Don't leave me suspense kid, you know I hate that. Dramatics is my thing."

It was the person who Peter trusted to be loyal to Tony. The only person who could get into Tony's security system without anyone noticing. The same person who told him Ned and MJ were grounded, but didn't want him to check in with them.

"Happy. I-I gave the drive to Happy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the long wait, but if I’m being honest, I wasn’t really happy with the last two chapters, and when I get in the headspace that I don’t like what I’ve written, it makes it really hard to move forward. I am much happier with this chapter, though, and I hope you guys are too! 
> 
> As always, I’d love to hear from you! Thank you for sticking with me. I adore you and I can’t wait until next time! Two chapters to go! 😱🥳


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